When Your Life Is an Epilogue
by Sailor X1
Summary: After all the darkness of the war... perhaps normal was something they would never be. But done with all this darkness? That was something they were more than willing to give up. [AU since DH. Postwar. Triocentric. Proper summary inside. HG, RHr]
1. Prologue

Hello all, and welcome to the madness that is _'When Your Life Is an Epilogue.'_ Allow me to preface this with a bunch of notes, and then I promise I'll just let you read the fic from here on out. This fic is a project I started as an anti-stress agent in the midst of undergrad projects and papers. Feedback will be greatly appreciated, as I no longer have an oppurtunity to write anything for edit other than research papers (bleh). Let me know what you think and I will do my best to keep up with this as time allows.

Rating: It gets a bit angsty, and some of my themes will deal with more mature topics (nothing explicitly sexual or anything; that area will stay teen appropriate). For this reason, the rating is a very firm T.

Proper Summary: The war has drawn to a close and the wizarding world is at peace at long last. However, after spending more than two years cut off from society (except when gracing the halls of St. Mungo's, and the ever so welcoming homes of various deatheaters), the trio must learn to integrate themselves back into society in the face of their inner demons, and worse (if you're a bloke), face their emotions (I know, I can hear Ron stammering like an idiot already). Couples include the usual: Ron/Hermione, Ginny/Harry primarily along with some others in the background. I should warn you now that this fic has an extremely loose plot. I won't say it doesn't exist because it's there... if you squint and tilt your head to the right, I'm sure you'll see it. Like I said, this fic is to keep me sane this semester, so it won't be intensly plot driven. The prologue takes place before the defeat of Voldermort to set up some character development and background for the rest of the fic. Everything after that will take place post-war.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the world he lives in is a creation of J.K. Rowling. The grammar errors and meandering tone that leaves you wondering what the point of the sentence was... that's all me.

Thank you for listening to me ramble. Now, on with the prologue.

Ron Weasley's brow wrinkled as he scraped at a stubborn bit of porridge at the rim of his dinner bowl. He was no stranger to washing dishes the muggle way, but washing dishes the muggle _camping_ way was a bit trickier. He knew he should have just done it before they had headed deeper into the woods; he should have done it while they knew they weren't within deatheater magical detection boundaries. But he hadn't. And now the porridge was refusing, point blank, to cooperate with his lame excuse of a sponge.

"Scrape it off with a knife," Hermione offered, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice.

Ron frowned and dug in his pocket for the muggle Swiss army knife that Hermione had ingeniously thought to buy for each of them. Ron had thought they were a bit silly, but none of them had known at the time that they would need practical, non magical tools.

It had been nearly 26 months since the trio had headed out on their horcrux hunting excursion. To say that a lot had happened in those 26 months would be the understatement of the century. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had headed out a week after Bill and Fleur's wedding and after 20 St. Mungo's trips, 23 books on healing, countless duels with inner circle deatheaters, and at least 50 howlers from Mrs. Weasley demanding they return to the burrow rather than only seeing the distraught woman from a cot in St. Mungo's, only one horcrux remained. The process of finding the blasted things was painstakingly slow, and actually retrieving one usually ended in a near death experience for at least one of them.

Still, they had been successful this far, and they had learned things that Hogwarts never could have taught them. Professors hadn't been kidding when they had called Hermione the brightest witch of her age. She could do things with a wand that actually scared Ron and Harry occasionally, though neither would ever admit it. The two boys usually consoled their wounded egos with the reminder that Hermione was rubbish on a broomstick no matter how many lessons they gave her. Flying had become quite integral to their missions and Hermione had no choice but to use a broomstick.

Shivering against the freezing air, Hermione settled herself on her sleeping pallet and pulled the blanket tightly around herself, smiling at how Ron's ears were beginning to go pink in agitation. She wished she had something to occupy herself with. She hated this part of their nightly routine.

The trio had been trailing a group of deatheaters for over a month now, and every night they had to go through the same process. The deatheaters almost always had a base of some sort. Harry, Ron and Hermione had figured out that if they followed any given deatheater long enough, they would be led right to one of these bases, and could gain heaps of information by spying.

The bases, however, were protected with several spells. None were as inconvenient as the magical detection ward. They had discovered, the hard way, that the use of any magic whatsoever within the bounds of the ward would alert the deatheater camp immediately.

Hermione had found a way to detect the ward's perimeter, but the only way to actually see where the border was located was in the air. Basically, one of them would cast the helpful little spell that Hermione had found god knows where, and one person (mostly Harry or Ron) would fly around the area under the invisibility cloak, looking for the faint silver line that became visible due to Hermione's spell. The process usually took about two hours, as they could never be sure where they were in relation to the detection ward's barrier and had to cover several miles to be sure they were either in or out of it. The spell only worked because it was linked to the magic involved with the ward in the first place, and therefore didn't 'sound the alarm' whenever they cast the spell. Hermione had attempted to explain this to Ron and Harry but had received blank stares in response. It was through this process however, that they usually found the heart of the base.

Tonight it was Harry out on his broom. Hermione hated the waiting, and tried in vain to block out the cold that was beginning to make her teeth chatter. She looked back over at Ron, who had an almost boyish look of triumph on his face.

Ron.

The change in Hermione's best friend was the hardest thing for her to swallow since this whole war had started. She had once claimed that Ron had the emotional range of a teaspoon, but she had never been so wrong about something in her life. She had come to realize that the mess of emotions that made up Ron Weasley was actually the reason he had so much trouble expressing them. He would get himself so passionate about one particular emotion that being able to feel another emotion simultaneously would indeed probably make him explode. It seemed as though the red headed Gryffindor had matured out of no where. Hermione had told him this several months ago, mostly as a joke, and had received a rather unexpected response.

_Ron suddenly became very quite and nodded, looking away from Hermione and out over the ocean. Harry was once again out on recognizance and the pair had been left to sit and wait yet again. _

"_Ron?"_

"_It was sort of this defining life moment for me Hermione."_

_Hermione stayed very quiet and stared at Ron's profile. She had wondered about the change in Ron for some time, but she had figured that basically, everyone had to grow up eventually. He was still Ron and all, just more…well, just _more_. She waited silently as Ron knit his eyebrows together and continued to look out ahead of them._

"_You know last time we were at the burrow? While you were recovering from whatever the hell it was Lucius cursed you with? Harry and I, we… he… he told me a lot of stuff I'd never really known before. I mean, I _knew_ his parents were killed. I _knew_ the Dursleys were foul. I _knew_ he'd seen death in a way I never have. I just… I never really got it until then. Stuff like… I mean… did you know that before Hogwarts, the Dursleys kept him in a cupboard under their staircase?"_

_Hermione inhaled sharply. She did in fact know this. Harry had confided it to her while they were at Hogwarts. Boys, she knew, simply didn't talk about these things with other boys._

"_I just…" Ron trailed off and shook his head._

_Hermione reached over and placed her hand on top of Ron's. She had meant to give it an encouraging squeeze and then let go, but Ron unexpectedly twisted his hand around to hold Hermione's properly. Had it not been for the seriousness of their conversation, she might have had the chance to be shocked by his actions. Ron had matured, yes, but his communication and behavior with girls was still absolutely laughable. _

_They sat in silence while the events at the burrow replayed in Ron's memory like one of those muggle movie things Hermione and Harry had told him about. _

"_They kept you where?"_

_Harry just shrugged in response. He stood in the center of Ron's room, looking more broken than anything Ron had ever witnessed. In that moment, something inside of him shifted. The whole world suddenly tilted a little differently for Ron Weasley. His best mate of nearly 7 years was standing in front of him looking both 5 and 50 years old at the same time, fighting the inner battle between manning up and shrugging his pain off and pleading with himself to just let go for once—to grieve for the first time in his life._

_In any other moment of Ron's life, he would have left the room; allowed Harry his peace. But something in this moment was different. Harry wouldn't have peace simply because Ron left the room. What Harry needed was Ron's permission, anyone's permission, to simply let go. He had been denied that right as a child from the people who were supposed to love and care for him. He had been denied that right as an adolescent from the social norms of being a male. _

_Ron decided (and why he decided this, or even why Ron _knew_ any of this, Ron would probably never know or understand) that Harry would not be denied that right anymore._

_In one fluid movement Ron stood in front of Harry and gripped his shoulders firmly, forcing Harry to meet his gaze. For the first time, Ron saw the emotion trapped behind Harry's green eyes, and once again, something in Ron shifted._

"_You great prat Harry. You shouldn't keep things like that from the people that truly care about you."_

_Ron didn't wait for a response as he pulled Harry towards himself in a strong embrace. It wasn't a motherly embrace—or really any other type of embrace Ron had ever given someone or received himself. It was the same embrace George had given Fred when he found out Angelina would probably never walk again after a deatheater attack. It was the same embrace Charlie had given to Percy when the younger Weasley had at long last cracked at the animosity some of his siblings still carried towards him. Ron didn't know he even had the ability to give such an embrace, but here he was._

_Ron released Harry and stood back for a moment. It was all Harry needed. The dark haired boy sank to the nearest bed, held his head in his hands, and wept for what he would later realize was the first time in his life. Sure, he had cried before, but weeping like this was something entirely new to him._

_Ron stood next to him, hesitating awkwardly before finally sitting down next to his friend and placing his hand on Harry's trembling shoulder._

_They had never talked about it. They didn't need to. He didn't relive the whole story to Hermione, but he didn't have to do that either._

"_It's like I saw everything for the first time Hermione," he said softly. "It made me realize why I'm even fighting against evil like Voldermort. People like Harry don't deserve lives like this. People like you don't deserve to be told you're worthless. People like Fred don't deserve to watch the person they care about most suffer so much."_

_Hermione only nodded, knowing exactly what Ron meant. She had experienced similar moments herself. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and the pair sat in contemplative silence for some time afterward._

"You awake over there Hermione? …Hermione?"

Ron arched an eyebrow at the nearly indistinguishable lump of blanket and set the now clean bowls to the side. Hermione mumbled something from beneath her blanket but didn't move.

"You ok in there?" Ron asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

The blanket moved again and Ron took that to mean yes. He mentally cringed at how tiny Hermione looked. Harry and Ron both knew that they would have been dead long ago if it hadn't been for Hermione. The two boys were astounded by how practical thinking simply escaped the pair of them from time to time. They had thought they were all ready to leave when Hermione had brought up food, shelter, water, and other supplies that quite frankly hadn't even crossed Harry or Ron's minds. It had been Hermione that made sure they ate everyday. It had been Hermione who made sure they had a way to get fresh water, even when they couldn't use magic. It had been Hermione who figured out how to get into the heart of the deatheaters' bases undetected.

So when Hermione ended up in St. Mungo's from malnourishment and extreme weight loss, Ron and Harry had nearly been sick with guilt. (Or more accurately Ron had _actually_ been ill while Harry stared at the ceiling all night long and denied himself proper sleep). They hadn't even _noticed_ that Hermione ate drastically smaller portions than they did.

To compound the emotional drama, Hermione had felt utterly stupid about the whole thing. She hadn't meant to start starving herself; she had just been so preoccupied and worried that she hadn't even realized she wasn't eating.

Hermione had only just been able to ease her best friends' guilt in the past month or so. Or at least she had convinced them it wasn't their fault enough to make them stay quiet about it anyway.

Ron peered down at Hermione and cringed inwardly. Not knowing Ron had come over to her, Hermione had curled into a tight ball in a desperate attempt to get warm. She was shaking so hard Ron was convinced her teeth were going to chatter right out of her head.

"Hermione?" The concern in his voice was no longer subtle.

Hermione jumped slightly and snapped her eyes open to look up at Ron.

"Are you ok?"

Hermione attempted to smile but it came across as more of a grimace. "F-fine. I'm to-to-totally fine."

"Like hell you are," Ron muttered. He scanned their tiny campsite, biting his lower lip. He looked back down at Hermione who had resumed her fetal position. He really wished they could start a fire muggle style, but the deatheaters would come to check out where the smoke was coming from. They'd learned this the hard way as well.

"I-is it wrong I-I almost wish we h-hadn't made it to the b-base?" She said, trying her best to make light of the situation.

Ron ran a hand through his hair and continued to gnaw on his lip.

"Ron?"

"Mm?"

"I'm re-re… uhg! I ca-ca-can't even talk!"

That was it. Ron kicked his shoes off and did the only this he could think of. He lifted the blanket and curled up behind Hermione, snaking his arm around her tiny waist and wrapping her ice cold toes between his much larger feet.

"What are- are you doing?"

"Keeping you warm," he answered simply. "Besides, I forgot to un-shrink mine and Harry's blankets."

Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. After 10 minutes or so, her teeth stopped chattering and she forced herself to relax. Physical intimacy had never been Ron's forte, and how he could relax with his arms wrapped around Hermione like this was rather surprising to her.

"Ron," she said quietly, her body finally relaxed enough to allow normal speech.

"Yeah?"

"I hate this part."

Ron didn't say anything for a moment and wrapped his arms tighter around Hermione, nuzzling his face into her hair slightly.

"He'll be back before you know it."

"I know. I just… I still hate it."

Ron sighed and absently twirled a loose strand of Hermione's hair. "Why do you hate it so much?" he asked softly, "He's completely invisible. Nothing's going to happen."

"I know. I just…"

"Just can't stand to be too far away from me," Harry's voice interrupted. He appeared seconds later from under his cloak, broomstick and all.

Ron was up in an instant, wand out, crouched protectively over Hermione.

"Dumbledore was the first chocolate frog card I got," Harry began to drone in an almost bored tone, "Hermione is the one who taught us the alohamora spell."

Ron had lowered his wand slightly but was still watching Harry warily. They hated doing this, but it was necessary for their safety and they knew it. Seeing that Ron was still holding his wand, Harry took a deep breath and continued talking while he put away his cloak and broomstick.

"In our first year at Hogwarts, Hermione used a full body bind spell on Neville," Ron was still holding his wand. "The farthest you've gone with a girl…"

"_Alright_!" Ron glared at Harry and pocketed his wand before sliding back down under Hermione's blanket.

Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes as Ron resumed his snuggling antics (which Hermione was still baffled with considering it was _Ron_).

"I don't know why you always react like that when he says that. It's not like you haven't already told me yourself that all you've done is some snogging. And goodness knows I've witnessed that display along with the rest of Gryffindor."

Ron's ears instantly began to burn as he muttered something about that being completely beside the point.

Harry shook his head, still smirking at his two friends. "_Anyway_," he said, changing the subject, "we're just inside the border. So for goodness sakes Ron don't forget in the middle of the night and _accio_ yourself some toilet paper." Harry completely ignored the rude gesture Ron gave him while he double checked that his cloak and firebolt were safely tucked away. He turned around and looked at the lump of blanket that made up Hermione and Ron and tilted his head in confusion. "What on earth are you two doing anyway?"

Ron grinned and poked his head out from the blanket. "Trying to keep skin and bones over here warm."

At this, Hermione groaned and twisted around in Ron's grip to bury her face into his chest.

"Mew mew mr mo meee noo mee."

Harry burst out laughing as Ron looked down at the mass of hair in front of him with a rather impressed expression.

"You don't seriously expect us to have any idea what that's supposed to mean do you?"

Hermione's face appeared from beneath her curls, scowling up at Ron.

"I said you two are so mean to me."

Ron shrugged and gave her a lopsided grin. "Yeah, well… I'm keeping you warm at least, right?"

Hermione rolled her eyes yet again. He was hopeless. She twisted herself around so she was completely facing Ron and could properly curl up to him, strictly for his warmth she told herself firmly, and dug her still icy toes in between Ron's ankles.

Ron winced mentally as her cold toes made contact with his warm skin but didn't move away from them. It was partly his fault her body didn't have enough fat to keep warm anyway no matter what Hermione tried to tell him.

"C'mon mate, this is the one blanket we've got tonight," Ron told Harry, giving him an apologetic look.

"You forgot to un-shrink them again didn't you? On the coldest night of the year no less."

Ron nodded sheepishly as Harry peeled his trainers off and pulled his robe over his head and draped it over Ron and Hermione for what he hoped would be extra heat. He shivered as the cold night wind whipped through his t-shirt and he quickly shimmied himself under the now rather crowded blanket.

"This is ridiculous," Harry announced after a few moments.

Ron snorted and Hermione began to giggle.

"Behold, the almighty trio, the wizarding world's only hope for a brighter tomorrow!"

Hermione and Ron were nearly howling with laughter as Harry went on to describe how the great trio had hoodwinked the deatheaters and Voldermort with a single blanket and a pile of howler ashes.

"Enough," Hermione chocked out, "I can't breath Harry."

The three settled down once again and tried in vain to get more comfortable.

"So, what's the plan for tomorrow Harry? Just snoop around the deatheaters' camp and hope to get some info on where that bloody snake could be or what?

"Don't have to," Harry answered Ron, "Nagini is there."

Ron's head snapped up at this and even Hermione craned her neck behind her to look at Harry.

"You might've thought to mention that," Ron told him, still a bit too surprised to be annoyed.

Harry shrugged. "I um… I didn't really want to think about it."

"Harry, are you sure it was Nagini?" Hermione asked, "I mean, Voldermort never seems to let that ruddy thing get too far…" Hermione's voice trailed off and she twisted around to look at Harry properly.

"I know," Harry said, so softly that Ron and Hermione almost didn't hear him. It was all Harry had needed to say to tell his friends everything. They were here. They had found Voldermort himself.

The three sat in silence for a moment before Harry spoke again, the tone of the conversation much more somber than it had been only moments before.

"We know Nagini is a horcrux. Just… just kill her somehow. We've talked to McGonagal enough about it; Voldermort's soul can't survive if the host dies. As long as the snake is dead…"

Harry let the statement hang in the air. There was no need to finish it. They had talked about this a million times, so now that the moment was almost here… there really wasn't anything else to say.

Harry rolled over to face his two best friends and inched his way closer to Hermione. Hermione reached behind her and grabbed Harry's hand, pulled it across her waist, and continued to hold on to it as Ron instinctively moved his arm from Hermione's waist to her shoulder to make room. Harry tensed for a moment before relaxing and burying his face in Hermione's hair. Ron gave him a gentle pat on the arm before wrapping his own arm back around Hermione's shoulder.

None of them would be cold on this night.


	2. Have a real life?

Chapter 1: Have a _real_ life?

"We're going to be late boys! Seriously!"

Hermione sighed and folded herself over the arm of the sofa in defeat. Honestly, wasn't _she_ the one who was supposed to run late for fancy occasions?

"We're coming Herms!"

Hermione wrinkled her nose and faked a gag. "Call me that again _Potty_ and you'll be sneezing bats for a week!"

Harry wisely didn't respond. He knew she was serious.

At long last, the two boys, or young men rather (Hermione didn't really like admitting that), emerged from the end of the hall, Ron still fiddling with his tie.

"Sorry Hermione," Ron said without looking up from what was quickly becoming a tangled mess of silk, "Harry still can't tie his own tie. And apparently I can't either while I'm moving," he added under his breath.

Hermione suppressed a laugh and took Ron's hands away from his neck and began to fix the tie for him. Ron looked up in surprise, not realizing she had been right in front of him. His eyes widened and he swallowed thickly.

"How do you do it?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

"Hmm?" Hermione responded, brow furrowed at Ron's tie.

"Look even more amazing every time we have to go to one of these stupid things."

Hermione pulled the silk tight and looked up at Ron, whose ears had already turned pink.

Harry smirked at his best friends and shook his head. They could fight death eaters till dawn and not bat an eye, but a genuine compliment from one or the other turned them into terrified kids.

Harry had actually been taken back the first time he realized that Hermione was pretty. She wasn't stunning or anything of that nature, but Harry could at least see that puberty had been rather kind to his friend. It was a bit awkward to think about, so he mostly chose to ignore it and entertained himself with watching Ron squirm anytime Hermione was within a foot of him.

"Do we have to go?" Harry asked suddenly, deciding to forgo his entertainment and rescue his friends from their awkward moment.

Hermione laughed and nodded. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Nah, we don't. What are they gonna do if we just don't show up?" Ron asked, only half joking.

"I hate these," Harry mumbled. "This is the last one I'm going to, I mean it."

Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement. Since the defeat of Voldermort, the trio had become the subject of just about every social event in the wizarding world. There had been galas and parties and tributes to them for a month now. They had known the wizarding world would respond like this, they just hadn't really counted on how long they would drag it out. They had enough plaques between the three of them to fill a small vault at gringotts.

Harry was thankful that they hadn't exactly returned to the wizarding world until a month and a half after Voldermort's actual defeat. They'd hid out at the burrow for a few days before heading off to Romania for a bit of a 'vacation' with Charlie. They simply hadn't been ready to face the world that now hailed them as heroes.

Inevitably however, they would have to face the spotlight, and had returned to England ready (or as ready as they were going to be) to relive everything to the public. Tonight was to be a formal dinner hosted by the ministry of magic to honor those that had fought against Voldermort. The entire Order was to receive recognition—or something like that anyway. The trio had long since tuned out the details.

A loud crack filled the room and Fred's voice filled Harry and Ron's modest flat.

"You kiddies coming? Mum sent me to make sure you'd wiped the dirt off your noses and combed your hair properly and other such nonsense."

Fred appeared from inside the kitchen, a half eaten apple in his hand and a wide, amused, grin plastered across his face.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, "Who does she think she is?"

"Who does she think she's kidding is more like it," Fred answered, his mouth full of apple. "I mean, has she ever _seen_ Harry's hair. I don't think all the proper brushing in the world could do anything to help that mop. And yours could definitely use a cut Ron."

Harry rolled his eyes and punched Fred playfully on the arm. "Like I haven't heard that a thousand times. We're coming."

"But only to remind our dear mum that Harry and I are 19 years old, paying our own rent, and buying our own bloody groceries," Ron growled.

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "And by that, of course, you mean that all your award and fame money is paying rent, and that you send me out to buy you two bachelors groceries and plan meals, right?"

Ron scowled as Fred smirked and winked at Hermione.

"Come on. Let's get this over with," Harry sighed.

The four Gryffindors spun on their heels and apparated simultaneously to the ballroom entrance at the ministry of magic.

"We're at a separate table than you three, as usual," Fred said, once they'd all reappeared. "I think you three are seated with Scrimgeour."

To his credit, Fred at least had the decency to sound sorry for the trio. They nodded to him and he headed off to find George and the rest of the Weasleys before the dinner started. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched him wistfully as the table of red heads greeted Fred warmly and he gestured to his mother that the "kiddies" were present and all in one piece.

"This is going to be a long night," Harry muttered.

"Mmm. Last one though boys. We can do this."

Ron laughed and shook his head. "Shows how mature we are. We need a pep talk just to go to a dinner. Honestly Hermione, I think you used that same line before our history of magic OWL."

"Which I failed miserably," Harry pointed out.

Hermione rolled her eyes and linked arms with her two friends. "Come on, let's get this over with so we can get back to the apartment."

"Who said you were invited over?" Ron asked playfully.

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs but smirked all the same.

The meal dragged by without much incident. The minister had greeted the rather large crowd and introduced the Order members (who were now just as publicly known as Harry) and then of course forced Harry, Ron, and Hermione to stand, announcing them as the wizarding world's "Golden Trio." The three had only just managed to stop dry heaving at the title last week. The Daily Prophet had bestowed it upon them, an act which Ron swore was their revenge for the trio only giving an exclusive interview to the Quibbler after Voldermort's demise.

Scrimgeour had droned on and on for the entire meal (which the table's youngest occupants only consumed about a quarter of). The trio tried to be polite, but their patience was wearing thin. The ministry was not exactly a bright spot in any of their memories, its behavior during the war having been absolutely ghastly.

Desert had at long last been served, and Scrimgeour was loudly informing the other dignitaries seated at the table that their heroes were officially the youngest recipients of the Order of Merlin, First Class, when a sharp bang echoed across the ballroom.

The response was instant. The Order members had their wands drawn before the rest of the guests even had a chance to register the noise. Ron had instantly stood, knocking his chair over in the process, and cast a shield charm that surrounded himself, Harry, and Hermione. Hermione began shouting reveal spells in the direction of the disturbance and Harry magically parted the tables and guests out of the way.

It was all purely instinctual. It was several minutes before Hermione and Harry lowered their wands, almost sheepishly, and Ron took down the shield. One of the waiters looked apologetically at the crowd from the floor, his tray and its contents strewn around him. The poor man had only tripped, causing the loud clatter.

The order members and the trio sank to their seats while the rest of the guests watched open mouthed, some still with their forks half way to their mouths. Ron groaned and shoved a piece of trifle into his mouth for lack of anything better to do.

"Well," the minister said dumbly, "Um, how bout that, huh?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione, "How about that?"

Across the room, Tonks and Lupin sighed wearily and looked away from the minister's table.

"Those three are something else," Lupin said, shaking his head.

"Crying shame they lost their interest in being aurors," Moody replied.

"Can't blame them though. They've seen more than enough evil for one lifetime I'm sure," Kingsley Shackbolt said, not bothering to hide the hint of sadness in his voice.

"Maybe so," Tonks agreed, "But I really don't think any of this is over for them. Not emotionally and mentally anyway."

Lupin nodded in agreement. "Mmm. But there isn't anything we can do about that. It's a battle they'll have to fight with themselves. We're going to have to help them—assimilate them back into the real world, wouldn't you agree Moody?"

The scarred auror grunted in response. "Give 'em time. They've got each other, and Weasley's got enough family to make a support _network_ not just a system. Just don't _tell_ 'em we're keeping an eye on them."

Lupin sighed again and idly swirled his wine around its glass. As if he could avoid helping James' only son even if he wanted to. James and Lily would be proud, no doubt, but had they been alive, there probably wouldn't be nearly as many pieces of Harry scattered around to be put back together in the first place.

1111111111111111111111111

Ron, Harry, and Hermione sat around the sparsely decorated living room of Harry and Ron's flat, mulling over the evening. None of them had bothered to change out of their dress robes and Hermione knew she was going to have to remind them how to do an ironing charm later. She entertained the idea of making them do it the muggle way and smirked into her water glass.

The trio's lives were quite off kilter, and they knew it. No one had really come right out and said it to them, but they weren't even all that fabulous at communicating to their old friends and family anymore. Anything social outside the three of them felt rather foreign.

The fact of the matter was that none of them had ever really thought about what to do with themselves after the war. Sure they'd considered careers and what not, but it was all so distant and far away. The war and final battle had loomed over them for as long as they could remember. Even now that the battle was over, they couldn't get on with a "normal" life until everyone calmed down a bit.

None of them liked to admit it, but talking about the battle like it was this pretty and neatly packaged tale of triumph was almost unbearable. The fact was that they were all a bit scarred from the whole thing, both literally and figuratively. Ron had a 5 inch scar across the back of his left shoulder that he didn't even know how he had received for example, and people wanted them to talk about how they happily flicked their wands and made the bad guys go away.

"I'm gonna get to bed," Ron announced, "I'll see you in the morning."

Hermione and Harry bid him goodnight and Ron disappeared into his room. Harry watched his door closed and then swung his gaze over to Hermione.

"So…"

"So." Hermione responded, giving Harry a questioning look.

"So when are you two going to… you know… admit your crazy about each other and all of that?"

Hermione pursed her lips and regarded Harry very carefully. "I believe I'm not going to answer that question, Mr. Potter, until your own love life is untangled, hm?"

Harry scowled and took a long sip of his drink, stalling. "Low blow Hermione. It's different."

"Oh Harry," Hermione sighed. "I think we're all still so in shock. I mean, it's hard to go from living life unsure of whether you were going to get blasted into nothingness, to just _living _life. Me, You, and Ron… I just don't think we process emotions like we used to. Or like the rest of the world for that matter."

Harry slumped further into the couch cushion and wrinkled his nose in frustration. "I think that's the best way I've heard it put. I mean, I laugh at Fred and George and it feels… weird to me, like I'm only doing it because somewhere in the back of my mind I know I'm supposed to be laughing. These past couple of weeks have just felt so… I dunno… numb I guess. Like I'm waiting for permission to _feel_ again, you know?

Hermione nodded slowly.

"Harry… we have permission."

"I know," he answered quietly, "I just don't think I want to acknowledge that just yet."

Hermione nodded in understanding and stood up. She didn't want to admit it, but she felt the exact same way.

"Well, I'm heading home. See you tomorrow Harry.

Harry nodded and pulled himself off the couch and walked her to the door. At the last second, he stuck his arm out and grabbed Hermione's elbow.

"Hermione, tomorrow… tomorrow let's talk about this. Let's, you know, actually decide to _do_ something. I… I miss the feeling I used to have at the burrow when we'd all have dinner together. I miss the feeling of a quiditch match. I miss… I miss the way I felt around Ginny."

Hermione looked up at Harry and met his gaze. She swallowed hard and nodded.

"Ok," she said softly.

"Ok. Ok, good."

Hermione gave Harry's arm a gentle squeeze and she headed out the door. She sighed as Harry closed the door behind her. She hated that after all they'd been through, after all the darkness of the war, they still couldn't seem to just be _done_. Perhaps normal is something they would never be, but done with all of this darkness? That was something she was more than willing to give up. She and her friends had always kept high spirits, always kept their heads just above the water, but now that everything was supposed to be over, it was going to be more of a challenge to stay afloat. They were just so isolated it seemed.

The lift came to a halt two floors below Ron and Harry's and Hermione stepped out and headed towards her own flat. It was rather pathetic, she knew, but at least she'd actually got her own place instead of just bunking with Harry and Ron. She unlocked the door and stepped in only to face yet another red headed teen.

"You didn't tell them."

Hermione sighed and looked apologetically at Ginny. The comment had been a statement, not a question.

"Hermione, I still don't see what the big deal is."

Hermione turned away as she shoved her shoes into a corner. Ginny had already changed out of her dress robes and was sitting in a dressing gown, tea in hand, waiting for Hermione to return from the boys' flat.

"Everything is just so complicated right now Ginny. I mean, it's just been the three of us for so long now. Everything just feels so weird and foreign. I mean, I had to get used to sleeping on a bed again Gin!"

Ginny glared at Hermione and set her tea down rather forcefully on the table. Squaring her shoulders, she waited stubbornly for Hermione to turn around and face her.

"You three," Ginny started, getting up and stepping closer to Hermione, "need to get over yourselves."

Hermione's jaw dropped and she starred, wide eyed at her closest female friend. Ginny was the only one Hermione ever really confided anything to, and while in Romania, Hermione realized that Ginny living with her was the perfect solution to both Hermione's need for company and Ginny's financial need for a roommate. The youngest Weasley had moved in the day before, and somehow managed to keep Harry and Ron from finding out.

The two had arranged everything via owling and, upon Hermione's request, had not informed Harry and Ron that Ginny was moving in. It wasn't that she thought they'd be angry or anything, she just didn't want them to feel abandoned, or something strange like that. Ginny didn't really get it, but she also knew that there were a lot of things that was never going to get when it came to the trio. They'd been through some things together that Ginny just couldn't relate to and she accepted that.

Ginny shook her head at Hermione and her expression softened.

"Look Hermione… it's just time to let it go. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but the three of you have to flip the 'on' switches up. The only time you guys even act like normal people is when you're around each other. We've all been very understanding and patient and all of that, but I'm really getting annoyed now."

Hermione continued to stare at Ginny with a mixture of shock and admiration. She knew Ginny was right, and she also knew that Ginny Weasley was not a patient woman (except when Harry was involved).

Hermione finally dropped her gaze as her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I know Ginny. We all do. Harry and I were just discussing it actually. We're going to make some plans tomorrow. I'm just… we're all just… afraid."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. She hadn't quite been expecting _that._

"Um… of what exactly?"

"Of what we're going to feel. If I just stay like this… if I just stay numb to everything…"

"You don't have to feel any of what Voldermort and his scum did to you," Ginny finished for her.

Hermione nodded. "We let this limbo stage go, and it's all right there waiting for us… all those inner demons… all those terrifying images…"

Ginny sighed and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder, forcing the older girl to look up.

"You have to do it. You know that."

"Yeah. Yeah, we all do."

"Ron and Harry can come over here for breakfast tomorrow. We'll tell them I'm living here and they'll have to deal with the fact that time didn't stop when you guys left. I finished Hogwarts and started a real job. You accepted that; they will too."

Hermione nodded and let out a long sigh.

"Harry will kill me for not warning him ahead of time. You know that don't you?"

Ginny grinned and nodded with a very pleased look on her face.

"I love when he's flustered."

"You're a mean one you are."

"Yep. I most certainly am. And forgive me for thinking I have a bit of a right to be."

Hermione giggled and shook her head. "Whatever. I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning Gin."

Two flights above the girls, Harry pulled his pillow and duvet off his bed and trudged towards the living room. Ron appeared from inside his room as well, pillow and all. Neither said anything to the other as they walked toward the balcony door and stepped out into the brisk night air.

Ron shook his head dropped his pillow on the ground as Harry did the same on the opposite side of the balcony. Both boys settled onto the hard ground and curled up under their duvets.

"We belong in St. Mungo's, you know that right?" Ron informed Harry.

"Probably," Harry agreed.

"Night mate."

"Night Ron."

1111111111111111111111

"Eat more," Ginny commanded, sliding a plate of bacon to her brother with a stern look. "It's absolutely unnerving to see you leave food on your plate."

Ron looked up and gave Hermione and Harry a pleading look, but they just smiled in return.

"Traitors," Ron mumbled, stabbing at another piece of bacon.

"You too." Ginny instructed Hermione and Harry.

The grins instantly vanished off both their faces and Ron let out an "Aha!" of triumph.

"What are you, your mother?" Harry teased, forcing himself to swallow another biscuit.

"If that's what it takes," Ginny answered bluntly. "I don't care if you've been all cleared by St. Mungo's; they still said you guys needed to get up to date nutritionally and all the replenishing potions in the world can't do it for you. Now eat up."

"I still can't believe you didn't tell us you were rooming with her Hermione," Ron accused.

"Oh can we please just drop it?" Hermione answered, looking at her half eaten biscuit as though another bite may just kill her. "I told you, I don't know what came over me."

The boys sniggered and shook their heads at Hermione's blush. She really wasn't too sure why she felt they would care. They had actually been quite thrilled at the idea. Neither had been too keen on Hermione living alone in the first place, even if she was only two floors below them.

"So," Ron said finally, after eating enough food to satisfy his little sister, "about this whole getting on with out lives thing."

"That's not funny Ronald," Hermione scolded, her wide smile giving her away instantly.

"Actually Ronald," Harry chuckled, "it's bloody hilarious."

Ron and Harry both burst into laughter while Ginny and Hermione just shook their heads, grinning.

"Seriously though you guys, we can't keep just sitting around our flats all day," Ron said, once he'd calmed down slightly. "I guess we should think about jobs eh? Not that we really _need_ them."

"Course we need them, don't be ridiculous," Hermione snapped. "There's no way I'm depending on the money defeating stupid Voldermort brought in. I had no idea there'd be money involved!"

The two boys nodded in agreement. It had been a little weird at first, when they began receiving money from all sorts of wizarding organizations. In the end, they had opened a joint account at Gringotts and had been storing anything related to the war in a vault. They really didn't know what they were going to do with it, other than pay rent until they had jobs.

"Well," Ginny said thoughtfully, "What did you all fancy doing when you were at Hogwarts?"

"Aurors." Ron and Harry responded promptly.

"No way in hell though," Ron added, "I'm done."

Harry nodded and curled his lip in disgust.

"Ok," Ginny said, wondering if this was how McGonagal felt when doing career counseling with the fifth years.

"I um, I actually had a kind of a thought… maybe."

The three teens looked curiously at Ron, whose ears had begun to turn pink, a trademark among all of the Weasley children—though Ron seemed to have managed to turn it into an art form. Family trait or not, Ginny couldn't think of a single person who blushed as much as Ron.

"I was thinking I might like to be a Healer," Ron said hurriedly.

The room fell silent for a moment before Harry broke into a wide smile. "That's a brilliant idea mate! What do you look so bent out of shape over it for?"

Ron, unbeknownst to anyone other than Harry and Hermione, actually had quite a knack for Healing. His bone mending charm was flawless, and he had figured out some rather tricky spells in the middle of some rather tricky situations when Hermione or Harry had been injured. They'd don't a lot of self-heeling while horcrux hunting and it was surprisingly Ron who had picked up on it. He'd tried not to let it show, because it wasn't exactly a good thing that he needed to be healing one of his friends, but he had come to rather enjoy it.

Ron however, was now looking very apprehensive and began to fidget slightly.

"Um, Healing is kind of… well kind of prestigious and all of that. You've got to be all smart and have NEWTs in just about everything. Let's be serious you guys, there's no way I'd get accepted to the program. I didn't even _take_ my NEWTs, and I somehow doubt a handful of E's on my OWLs is going to cut it. I'll just have to…"

"Actually," Ginny interrupted, "there is a way you can get your required NEWTs for the program. You can sit a comprehensive exam at the department of education at the ministry. Lots of kids from my year have done it and yours as well. Parents wouldn't let their kids go back to Hogwarts for safety and all of that."

"I could tutor you Ron!" Hermione squealed, sounding way too excited about the idea.

"I dunno…" Ron said uncertainly. "I'm rubbish at school, you all know that."

"Oh don't be so down on yourself," Ginny chided, "Besides, the Healing program doesn't just look at grades. You have experience that tops most of the applicants hands down."

"How do you know all this?" Harry asked suddenly.

Ginny smiled and turned to face him. "I work for the ministry, you know that. I did some research while you guys were in Romania, talked to some people and all of that. I knew you guys would need to know where to start as far as getting jobs and all. I didn't think you'd fancy working for Fred and George.

Hermione made a face and Ginny had to laugh.

"Oh come on, it wouldn't be _so_ bad."

Hermione just shook her head sheepishly.

"You did that for us?" Harry asked quietly.

"'Course," Ginny replied, looking up at him in confusion. "Why wouldn't I?"

Harry nodded and for some reason felt his mouth go completely dry. He smiled weakly at her and stood up, heading for the balcony.

Ginny looked over at Ron and Hermione, confusion written across her face. Ron and Hermione shrugged, but exchanged knowing glances.

"You three are impossible, you know that?" Ginny said, not unkindly.

Ron didn't reply, but instead just jerked his head toward the balcony door, indicating that Ginny should go and talk to her ex/paused boyfriend. The two of them hadn't had a private conversation since the trio had returned, and to be honest, Ginny didn't have any idea what Harry thought of her or the relationship he had left sort of in the balance. She had no intention of pushing it, but she wasn't about to just ignore Harry. He was her friend before he had ever been her boyfriend, and that wasn't going to change as far as she was concerned.

"Hey, what was that all about?" Ginny asked as she stepped onto the tiny balcony and closed the door behind her.

Harry turned to her and once again smiled weakly.

"I'm sorry… it was weird, I know. I just… I just needed to get outside. It happens sometimes. Or at least… it does now. Since… since… you know."

Ginny nodded and hopped onto the balcony railing, ignoring the look of concern Harry was casting her precariously balanced body. She didn't really know how she was supposed to behave. She'd always been comfortable around Harry since they had started dating, but she knew a lot had changed since then. _Harry_ had changed. How could he not have?

"So Harry," she decided to just act like nothing was going unsaid between them. When Harry decided he was ready to address the subject of their relationship, she'd be waiting. "I don't really know what you had in mind as far as getting a job, but I happen to have an idea."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at the red head and instantly felt nervous from the mischievous look in her eyes. He knew that look, and he was actually quite relieved to find that it was having the same effect it always had on him. A mix of frightened excitement—a kind only Ginny could coax from him it seemed.

"You know my department?"

Harry smirked, "'Course I do. I remember Fred and George being rather thrilled at the prospect of free quiditch tickets floating around the family. You'll be after Bagman's old position in no time."

Ginny grinned, revealing her sparkling white teeth and Harry felt something lurch deep in his stomach. He'd actually forgotten what her smile looked like, and was rather appalled that he could have forgotten such a sight.

"I'm low on the totem pole, but maybe one day. Ginny Weasley, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Nice ring, don'chya think?"

Harry swallowed to keep from voicing another name that had a rather nice ring to it in his opinion. He couldn't believe how utterly awkward and tongue tied he felt. He didn't really expect everything to come back to him like this. He'd forced himself not to think about Ginny for so long now, for her own protection and his own sanity, that he'd really forgotten what it felt like to be near her. He silently hoped his cheeks weren't burning because he knew she'd notice, she always noticed, and he really wasn't ready to broach the subject just yet. He couldn't imagine Ginny actually felt the same way about him anymore. It had been 2 years since they had been involved; why would she wait around for a boy she once fancied back when she was 15, and who may not even ever return home?

"Anyway," Ginny continued, "Next month Puddlemere United is holding quiditch tryouts."

Harry just stared at her for a minute before what she was saying actually sunk in. When it finally did, he exploded in a fit of laughter.

Ginny couldn't help but smile. Despite the fact she had been totally serious about Harry trying out, it was good to hear him laugh fully like this. He hadn't done nearly enough of it since he'd been back—in her humble opinion at least.

"You're serious?" Harry gasped out, now that he could breathe normally again.

"Of course I am."

Harry calmed himself down and studied Ginny carefully. Realizing that she was indeed serious about trying out, Harry bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair.

"Ginny, I can't. First of all there's no way I'd be good enough. _Second of all_," he plowed on, preventing Ginny from arguing, "I can just see the headlines now: "Wizarding World's Hero Lives for Life of Fame! The prophet would have an absolute field day. I don't want to be a professional quiditch player because I'm famous, and nothing you can say will convince me that they won't just let me sign on because of my name."

"Harry," Ginny said firmly, "Give me some credit, will you? Of course you'd just get signed because of your name. However, I happen to be involved in the tryouts and can promise you they won't know it's you until after the selections have been made; I can make sure of it."

Harry shook his head, but Ginny could tell that she'd gotten his attention at the very least.

"Ginny," he said warningly, "I'm not even a halfway decent keeper, and chasing isn't my forte. Beating, yeah ok, I could probably pull that off…"

"Harry," Ginny said sharply, the mischievous glint in her eyes even more prevalent than before, making Harry swallow thickly, "They need a seeker."

She smirked in satisfaction at the look on Harry's face. He was running out of arguments and they both knew it.

"Ok fine, I'm a pretty good seeker, but Ginny… the whole spotlight thing? Come on! I get gawked at enough as it is."

Ginny tilted her head and studied her former boyfriend, an idea striking her as she took in his stressed expression.

"Harry," she said, her voice much softer now, "When you're in the air, in the midst of a game… it's the most incredible feeling. You feel like you should have been born to be in the air, not on the ground with gravity and all its inconveniences. You feel invincible… like…"

"Like nothing can touch you. Like everything stressful in life is hundreds of feet below you," Harry finished for her, staring off into the distance.

Ginny smiled in spite of herself. She knew how much Harry loved flying. She knew because she loved it too. Harry belonged in the air, doing what he loved; he didn't belong fighting in duels or hunched over paperwork.

"Nothing else makes me feel like that," Harry nearly whispered after a moment, "Except… except you."

Ginny snapped her head up in surprise, nearly losing her balance on the rail as she did. That was the last thing she had expected to come out of his mouth, and she wasn't prepared for it at all. She slid off the railing and bit her lower lip, wondering if Harry had even realized what he said.

Harry turned around and forced himself to meet Ginny's eyes. When he finally matched her gaze, he wanted to kick himself. It had taken him a full 30 seconds to realized he'd actually been talking out loud.

"Ginny I… I umm…"

"Don't," Ginny whispered, "Just… just don't. Not until you know what you want to say."

Harry visibly relaxed with relief. He knew he cared more about Ginny than he had any other girl in his life; or at least he cared about her _differently_ than he cared about any other girl, but there was so much that Ginny could never understand. And why would she want to?

"So you'll tryout then?" Ginny asked, her voice now back to normal, though the effort it was taking to keep it there was not hidden from either of them.

Harry stood quietly a moment before nodding slowly. "Yeah… yeah I think I will."

Ginny grinned and bounded to the door before turning around and looking expectantly at Harry. Her smile faltered as she looked at him, a pained expression on his face.

"Thank you Ginny," He said suddenly, "and… and not just for the whole… the whole tryout help thing."

Ginny nodded and reached her hand out for his. He gripped tightly before releasing it and nodding for her to head inside.


	3. It's Not The Door's Fault

Huge thanks to my two reviewers: Mel, and JessFantasy16. I really appreciate the feedback.

Chapter 2: It's Not The Door's Fault

Two weeks had gone by since Harry had agreed to tryout for Pudlemere, and Ron had, grudgingly, agreed to sit his NEWT equivalency exams. Hermione had been a little too excited for Ron's taste, but he had to admit he would be completely lost without her. At least she could keep his attention far more efficiently than Snape ever had.

Ginny had informed Hermione on the day they had discussed job plans, that McGonagal had approached her a few weeks prior with regards to Hermione's career options. It seemed the headmistress had a few ideas in mind for the young witch, and wanted to discuss them with her personally.

Hermione had been rather bewildered, but agreed wholeheartedly to meet with her once Hogwarts settled down a bit for McGonagal. It was only February, so she had a little while to wait.

Other than tutoring with Ron, and training with Harry, Ginny had seemed to make it her personal mission to integrate the trio back into society. She would constantly make them eat more, as well as force them to return the letters their old classmates sent them. She fully expected them to take them up on their offers to go out for drinks at some point, and made sure to tell them so every time it was mentioned.

"They listened to Harry snore for years, watched Ron snog Lavender all over the common room, and listened to Ron and Hermione bicker every possible moment. Believe me, they won't be gawking at you and avoiding eye contact!" she had told them exasperatedly.

Overall, things were going rather nicely—during the day at least. Harry and Ron hadn't told the girls about their inability to sleep indoors, and Hermione had refused to acknowledge the fact that she had a dull ache in her abdomen that refused to subside and seemed to be more prevalent when she wasn't busying herself with something. Ginny stayed silent, but she was well aware of the fact that all was not well. The later the day got, the more somber her friends would become.

For Harry and Ron however, this night was going to be different. The two young men stood in front of the balcony door, starring at it with determined looks.

"We're not going out there," Harry said firmly.

Ron nodded and continued to stare at the door handle.

"Right. Absolutely not," he agreed.

They stood in silence again.

"Perhaps we should get away from the door," Harry suggested.

"Yeah… yeah, good idea."

Neither of them moved.

"Harry this is bloody ridiculous!" Ron snapped, finally breaking his gaze away from the door that seemed to be beckoning them to walk through.

Harry groaned and kicked the door angrily.

"I'm aware of that, thank you Ron."

"Well what are we going to do? I'm tired; I want to sleep; no matter what, I'm awake by 8AM every morning. Basically, I really don't fancy staying up all night."

Harry sighed and his shoulders slumped significantly. He kicked the door again and then whipped his wand out, magically locking and sealing the door.

"You _do_ know that we know all of the counter spells to unlock those, right?" Ron told him.

"Oh, shut up."

"I'm just saying. And you really shouldn't be so harsh with the door Harry, it's not the door's fault you know."

"Ron…"

"Sorry. I was just saying."

Harry and Ron looked at each other and then at the clock. Quarter to one. Lovely.

"Want to play chess?" Harry asked suddenly.

Ron laughed and threw his hands in the air. "Sure! Why the bloody hell not?"

The two set up the board and for the next two hours played round after round of chess. Harry didn't really stand a chance, but at least it was something to do, and he had vowed that he would beat Ron at least once before they died, so he figured he may as well get in some practice.

"Harry," Ron said as Harry lazily watched his queen get smashed to tiny bits across the chessboard.

"Mm?"

"I… I need to tell you something."

Harry looked up at the seriousness in Ron's voice.

"At nearly three in the morning?"

Ron just shrugged and kept his eyes on the chessboard. Harry waited patiently, knowing that whatever Ron had to say was apparently not going to be good news.

"Do you know anything about insomnia curses—_insomnioto_, more specifically?"

Harry studied Ron's face carefully. He looked completely calm, a new trait that the war had developed in his red headed friend.

"Err, no. I don't think so. I imagine it makes it so you can't sleep… or something?"

"Something like that," Ron answered vaguely.

"Ron?" Harry was getting nervous now.

Ron finally looked up and met Harry's eyes.

"I um, I came across them while Hermione was tutoring me today. They're kind of a weird curse, pretty dark actually. It's like a nightly torture curse. It can manifest in all kinds of ways. Trouble is, you can't know _how_ or even when it will manifest until it does, and then there's no stopping it. It'll recur every night from then on until you can break it… basically. That's the general gist of it anyway."

"Ohh-kay," Harry said slowly, his eyes never leaving Ron's calm face.

"I um…" Ron faltered, and Harry noticed the flicker of the Ron from his childhood pass over his face before it disappeared again. "I'm fairly certain I was hit with one."

Harry looked at Ron carefully for nearly a full minute as understanding slowly sank in.

"You're sure?"

Ron nodded. "Macnair. At the Hufflepuff cup sight."

"Ok," Harry said again. "So, what do we do?"

"Nothing," Ron answered simply, "I just thought you should… you know… that you should know about it. I can't do anything to fight it until it actually hits me."

Harry nodded again, trying to gauge how Ron really felt about this.

"Does Hermione know?"

Ron quickly shook his head. "No. No one does."

"And you aren't going to tell them?"

"Not if I can help it… Check mate."

Harry rolled his eyes and began to set the pieces up for another round.

"Are you scared?" he asked, not looking up from the chessboard, knowing Ron would never answer the question honestly if Harry was actually looking at him. There was a long pause before Ron answered.

"I suppose so, yes, but not as… not as scared as I am of… of…"

Harry's head jerked up and he gave Ron a quizzical look, "Spit it out Ron, it's only me."

Ron's ears had surpassed pink and were now burning scarlet, along with his cheeks. He inhaled and kept his eyes away from Harry's.

"Not as scared as I am of admitting to myself how I feel about Hermione."

It took all of Harry's willpower not to laugh. It was a good thing Ron couldn't look at him yet because Harry was certain he'd be on the floor in stitches at his best mate's expense.

"Oh?" Harry asked, hoping his voice didn't sound too controlled.

"Oh don't play stupid Harry. I'm perfectly aware of what everyone thinks."

Harry smirked and the two young men finally met one another's eyes. Ron had never actually voiced anything regarding his feelings for Hermione. Whether from the desire to not talk about his curse, or perhaps to just get it out of system, Ron decided he may as well just bring it out into the open… with Harry at least. Quite frankly, he didn't have to say anything. Harry, along with everyone else, just knew.

"What is this, True Confessions night?"

Ron scowled and flung himself backwards into the sofa. "I'm being serious Harry!"

Harry laughed and moved over to sit next to Ron.

"I know you are, sorry mate. But come on, it's _Hermione_. What's the big deal?"

Ron looked at Harry incredulously. "You can't be serious?"

Harry just looked at Ron, obviously not the least bit joking.

"Well for starters," Ron continued when he realized Harry was clueless, "she's _Hermione!_ You know, Hermione, the nightmare of a girl who thinks she knows everything? The one who I row with just about every other hour or so? The one who annoyed the bejeezus out of me over homework? The one who is supposed to be one of my two best mates? _That_ one! And besides any of that, what bloke my age and in his right mind wants to admit he has _feelings, _serious ones, for a girl?"

"Serious ones eh?"

"Harry…"

"Ok, ok! Sorry. For real, go ahead."

Ron sighed and pulled a pillow over his face, mumbling into it about this being worse than watching Harry cry all those months ago, which Harry chose not to acknowledge.

"I don't know Harry," Ron groaned, removing the pillow from his face, "It's just… all those emotions and… yehlck."

Harry smirked yet again and shook his head.

"Ron, you're my best mate, so I mean this with all the sincerest respect, I really do…"

"I'm not gonna like this am I?"

Harry smiled. "Ron… you're an emotional bloke. It happens. I know, I know! Bizarre and surreal, but it does. And you, my friend, are of the passionately emotional category. The only reason you get away with hiding it from some people is because of your incurable clueless-ness."

Ron stared at Harry with a look of disgust, his mouth hanging open slightly without any words coming out. Harry grinned innocently at him and Ron just shook his head.

"You're a git, you know that?"

Harry just continued grinning.

"I mean it. You're a horrible, foul, ugly, git."

"Aww Ron, you don't think I'm pretty?" Harry accused, an expression of mock hurt on his face.

"Shut up Harry," Ron grumbled.

Harry chuckled and shoved Ron's shoulder. "All right, all right, I'll be nice I promise."

Ron just shrugged.

"I guess I just… she's the only one I'm really ok with… with letting in, you know?" Ron said finally, "I mean, that's the whole point isn't it? To find someone to share your life with, right?"

Harry smiled again, but this time it was slightly pained. "Yeah," he said weakly.

"What?" Ron asked, not at all fooled by Harry's attempts at covering up his angst.

"Nothing… it's just… it's hard to picture. I mean, why would anyone _want_ to be part of… part of _this_," he nearly growled, gesturing to himself with mild distaste. His face softened slightly as he dropped his arms to his sides. "Actually, I think it's more of who could ever, possibly, _understand_…," he paused, gesturing to himself rather dramatically again, "this."

"I can think of someone who would sure as hell try," Ron said quietly. "I think the problem is we're not so willing to let them. Defensive male pride thing or… or something I guess."

Harry had to agree with him there. Ginny would no doubt do anything she could to understand Harry, but he wasn't keen on giving her that chance, if she even still wanted it. It was too vulnerable, too exposed, and not exactly comfortable.

"Aw hell," Ron swore, "It's not like we're ever gonna understand _them_ either. I don't care how much I want to… I am never going to be able to grasp why Hermione gets so defensive when I tell her she looks nice. I mean sure, I get a little awkward when she says something nice to me, but that's because I don't really know what to say back, ya know?"

Harry nodded in agreement, marveling at the last half hour. The things Ron came up with after two in the morning…

They sat in silence for awhile, both lost in their own thoughts when Ron finally let out a puff of air.

"Well, one thing is for sure Harry. We are utter rubbish when it comes to girls, and just plain horrible at being men in general. I mean look at us! This is like a pajama party for Merlin's sake!"

"Speak for yourself," Harry replied, "I happen to be the epitome of brooding masculinity."

Ron snorted at this and turned to face Harry, who had an equally amused look on his face.

"When I'm not bawling my eyes out on my best mate's bed of course," he added, smirking.

Ron wrinkled his nose and shuddered. "Do us a favor Harry, and don't mention anything about you being in my bed ever again. Witch Weekly does enough of that for us, remember?" Ron shook his head and stood up. "Anyway, we have to sleep Harry. Or try at least… comfy mattresses, nice pillows and all."

Harry frowned and let Ron haul him up from the couch before following Ron towards the hall where their bedrooms were.

"Oh, Ron," Harry remembered suddenly, "Do you know when this whole insomnia thing will happen?"

"Not a clue."

"Perfect. Night Ron."

"Or something like it."

1111111111111111

"Ron, I told you a thousand times. They don't just look at your NEWTs for the program! They interview you personally!"

"Oh, so I can just get in on fame then? Perfect, just what I want."

"Uhg, Ron you are so impossible sometimes!"

"Why thank you."

The sarcastic and bitter display was not pleasant, and it took all of Harry's willpower not to stun them both so they would cool down, or at the very least, shut up. He wished Ginny were here, but she wouldn't be back for at least a few more hours. Being the newest intern had its drawbacks no matter how exciting your department was, and Ginny was often first on the list to stay late if something didn't get done. She didn't seem to mind much, and said she learned a lot when there was less chaos in the office.

"Ron," Hermione tried again, "you're being unreasonable. If you would just calm down, I'm sure you'll do fine tomorrow."

Ron wasn't hearing it. He hadn't slept much the past few nights (not that Hermione knew this. He and Harry had still not caved and gone out to the balcony, but they were paying the price), and he was currently frustrated with himself for being distracted by Hermione's sweater rather than paying attention to what she was actually trying to teach him.

"I'm going to get some air," Ron said quietly.

The anger had left his voice, and he headed out to the balcony. It had become a rather popular place as the trio still wasn't completely accustomed to being indoors so much. It was actually kind of alarming how tight a room could feel when you'd spent more than two years sleeping out in the open. Ginny had gotten used to the three of them ducking outside at random moments, but she knew they didn't realize just how often they seemed to 'need some air.'

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh and looked at Harry desperately. He set his book on quiditch tactics down and patted the seat next to him.

"We didn't row so much when we were…" she waved her hands around in the air, indicating what she meant, and flopped down next to Harry.

"Yeah well, you didn't want the last things you ever said to each other to be 'sod off' now did you?"

Hermione blanched at how bluntly Harry put it. He was right of course, but it still wasn't something she wanted to hear put quite so… harshly.

"He'd make an excellent healer Harry, why can't he see that?"

Harry didn't know why or how, but he knew the answer to this. It was the same reason Ron couldn't see what an excellent keeper he was. Harry had no way of explaining this to Hermione though, and couldn't help but think back to his conversation with Ron a few nights ago. Maybe Ron would one day be able to let Hermione 'in' enough to see the fears of a boy with five successful older brothers. But this wasn't going to be that day. He hadn't even consciously let Harry in on the matter—it was just sort of a guy thing as far as Harry knew… or maybe just a Ron thing.

Instead of answering her, Harry jerked his head in the direction of the balcony, insinuating Hermione should go and talk to him.

Hermione nodded in defeat and headed outside. Ron was bent over the railing of the small balcony, his arms dangling over the edge and toward the concrete below.

"Sorry I'm a git," he mumbled, sensing Hermione come up behind him.

"You're not a git."

Ron straightened up and looked at Hermione, one eyebrow arched and an unimpressed look on his face.

"Ok so maybe a little." Hermione admitted. "But I forgive you for it."

"Thanks."

They stood in silence for a minute or so, just looking out over the lame excuse of a view.

"We were… we were different out there," Ron said slowly, not looking over at Hermione.

"Yes, I suppose we were."

"I miss that. I mean… I don't miss being out there… but I miss the way we were… me and you I mean. I mean… Merlin, I'm such rubbish at this Hermione."

Hermione looked over at the red head, slightly confused.

"Rubbish at what?"

"Talking. Talking about… _feelings._ Well, _my_ feelings anyway. Anyone else's and I'm all right. Mostly."

"I don't mind so much. Not any more."

Ron turned to face Hermione at last. "You don't?"

She shook her head.

"No," she answered softly, "I've realized that you just express yourself differently. You're not much with words; you're right about that... you're terrible with them actually. But you make up for it other ways."

Ron stood perfectly still, almost afraid to breathe. Harry had been right the other night; Ron was indeed a passionately emotional breed of male.

Stupid Harry.

"You really will do fine tomorrow Ron… at the exam _and_ the interview. You'll be an amazing healer," Hermione had barely spoken the words, but Ron took in every word.

Hermione turned to go back inside and Ron leaned against the railing again, closing his eyes to the breeze that played across his face.

"Hermione," he called softly, eyes still closed.

Hermione stopped, hand still on the door.

"You… you make me feel like I can do anything."

Hermione stood, shocked for the moment at Ron's words. He never ceased to amaze her. It was like Ron became a different person when it was just the two of them. She knew boys had issues with letting their guard down in front of people—had a lot of pride and all of that. Ron she supposed was no exception, and having 5 older brothers probably didn't help much. Even Ron and Harry, who had seen each other in the most emotional of moments, acted with a strong need to save face whenever someone else was in the room.

She sighed and turned back to the door.

"That's probably because I _believe_ you can do anything Ron."

Ron opened his eyes and looked over at her. She looked stunning as far as was concerned, the breeze swirling her curls around her face gently. Frizzy hair and awkward posture be damned; Ron didn't care that she was anything but a typical beauty. He actually rather liked that Hermione wasn't typical. She smiled, a gentle smile, and stepped back into the flat.

111111111111111111111111111

Ron did indeed do just fine on his NEWT equivalency exams—probably better than he would have done on his actual NEWTs had he taken them at Hogwarts. He hadn't taken into account the practical magic he had learned against deatheaters the past two years, and it had helped him out quite a bit.

His personal interview had been a bit stressful, but had gone well none the less. His interviewer had been a senior Healer who was determined to decide if Ron was the real deal, or a fame seeking prat. Thankfully, Ron's uncertainty had worked in his favor for once, and the interviewer could easily see Ron had a natural talent for healing, as well as the desire to do the actual work involved.

Ron couldn't have been more thrilled. He wasn't sure that he could have entered the program knowing he'd only been accepted because he was a member of the 'Golden Trio.' He was finding it harder and harder to believe he'd ever been jealous of Harry. It almost sickened him sometimes.

Mrs. Weasley had put together a huge dinner to celebrate. Everyone knew that, more than anything, it was just an excuse to get the trio out of their flats and into her sight, but no one really complained.

All the Weasley's except for Charlie and Bill had made it to the burrow, as well as Lupin and Tonks. The now serious couple had grown quite close to the family of red heads during the course of the war, and was now a regular sight at the burrow.

"All right everyone!" Mrs. Weasley's voice boomed across the extra long table that had been assembled in the back yard, "Tuck in!"

A large spiral ham floated to the table and the occupants applauded appreciatively.

"It's not everyday you get a Healer in the family!" Mrs. Weasley chirped happily.

Ron pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered that the program was four years long, and he wasn't even qualified to be a nurse at this point, but his mother didn't hear him.

Everyone began to dive in as the rest of the dishes were levitated to the table with the help of Ginny and Mrs. Weasley.

"It's still kind of weird seeing you do magic outside Hogwarts," Harry commented, stabbing more potatoes onto his plate under Ginny's gaze than he actually wanted.

"I've been doing it awhile now Harry," Ginny said, amusement in her voice. She leaned closer to him and dropped her voice to his ear. "I'm not a little girl anymore."

Harry coughed and nearly chocked on his potato. Lupin cast him a concerned look and Ron began clapping Harry on the back until his breathing returned to normal.

Ginny barely hid her laughter and Harry was about to shoot her a dirty look when he realized she had meant it in good fun, and not to torture him.

Although, it was Ginny after all. She may have done it to torture him.

"Anyway," Harry said, pointedly not responding directly to her comment, "I noticed something rather interesting on your mom's clock."

Ginny sighed and shook her head. "Yes, it's true. Fleur has been added. She's one of the family now. You should have seen her and mum blubbering away when mum did the spell. Ridiculous."

Harry grinned and forced himself to eat another bite of potato. He loved Mrs. Weasley's cooking but he still wasn't fully accustomed to eating a full meal. Ron on the other hand had his old appetite back and was chomping down food with a vengeance.

"Hey Fred, pass the peas would you?" Ron asked, barely having swallowed the ham in his mouth. He pretended not to notice Hermione's eye roll.

Fred silently handed over the bowl of peas and continued to aimlessly roll his own peas around on his plate. Ron and Hermione watched him for a moment before turning to look at each other, entirely confused. They then scanned the table to see an equally annoyed looking and quiet George, brooding on the other end of the table.

"Oi, what's wrong with you two?"

Hermione sighed at Ron's lack of tact and decided it would be a good time to put some food in her mouth.

Fred looked up at Ron and then glanced down the table at his twin. Ron hadn't meant for everyone at the table to stop and look at them, but that's what happened all the same.

Fred just shook his head and returned to his peas.

The table suddenly became uncomfortably quiet and Harry swore he heard George cracking his knuckles beneath the table.

Fred clenched his jaw and slammed his fork down on the table, glaring murderously at the confused faces.

"What? The _twins_ can't be pissed off once in awhile? The _twins_ can't have any other role besides pranksters? The _twins_ can't be anything other than the bloody _twins_!?"

"Oh real mature Fred," George muttered, his jaw set firmly and his eyes staring determinedly at the table cloth.

"_I'm_ being immature?!" Fred shouted, outraged. "Oh, that's rich. Just bloody brilliant, that is!"

Fred and George both stood simultaneously, which only seemed to enrage them even more and they both made to sit down again.

"Stop doing everything I'm doing!" they shouted in unison.

The silence that followed was so cutting that no one dared move. This was the strangest thing Harry had ever seen. Fred and George simply didn't fight. They simply… they were simply… _them_.

Finally, George left the table and Fred just stood, shaking with anger.

"I…" he stated shakily, in a tone no one other than his parents had ever heard from Fred, "I… I would much rather have announced this differently," he forced out, the frustration obvious in his voice, "But George is being a complete prick about it."

No one at the table said anything. Everyone was entirely caught off guard by this twisted display. Ron actually felt sorry for Fred and George, and for a moment believed that perhaps this was just one of the twins' worse pranks.

"I've asked Angelina to marry me," Fred said at last. "She um… she said yes," he added when no one said anything.

Everyone at the table stared at him for a moment, half expecting him to tell them he was kidding.

It was Ron who at long last broke the silence.

"Bloody hell."

The table instantly erupted into congratulations as Fred's ears actually began to burn—a most unfamiliar scene indeed. The fact that George wasn't there sort of unnerved everyone, but they didn't want to downplay Fred's engagement. There was obviously more going on with the twins at the moment.

Harry cast a bewildered look over at Ron, who had an equally clueless look on his own face. He shrugged at Harry, and took a long swig of his pumpkin juice. It was a bit odd really, to acknowledge that things hadn't stayed exactly the way they had been before the trio left.

After everyone had said their congratulations to Fred and had settled back to eating, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley left the table to retrieve the pudding from the kitchen, but not before Mrs. Weasley gave Fred's cheeks an affectionate pinching and practically skipped back towards the house.

"Oh Arthur," she squealed girlishly, much to Mr. Weasley's amusement, "Can you believe it? Freddie… getting married!"

"Bloody brilliant isn't it?"

Mrs. Weasley jumped slightly and her eyes fell to the kitchen table where a very disgruntled George was sitting, head in his hands."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley shared knowing glances before taking a seat either side of their son.

"George…"

"Oh don't start," George said irritably, "I'm aware of what a prat I'm being and I'm perfectly fine with it, thank you."

Mr. Weasley smiled sadly at his son and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"George," he said gently, "You knew this would happen eventually."

George sat up and rolled his eyes.

"Well it's true," Mr. Weasley continued, "And you best be careful. The rest of the family will surely realize you and Fred have actual emotions if you two keep this up."

George snickered at this as Mrs. Weasley scolded her husband.

"They've always had emotions Arthur!"

Arthur just grinned at his wife, and then back at his son.

"Seriously though George, things change."

"Yeah, but I guess I just always thought they'd change at the same time. Always did before. I mean, how can he do this to me? What am I supposed to do?"

Molly couldn't help but feel a swell of emotion rise in her chest. Fred and George had been highly independent since before they had even started Hogwarts. It was very rare that either of them actually had a serious conversation with anyone, let alone their parents They had always had each other and that was all the really needed.

Even during the war, though they certainly knew when to be serious about things, the twins had still kept to themselves about everything that went on around them. Angelina's paralysis had been the first time in years she had seen the twins quite so vulnerable.

Even so, Molly and Arthur were the ones who had tucked Fred and George in at night; they were the ones who checked the closet for monsters and put band aids on their (many) skinned knees.

"You aren't really angry with him darling," Mrs. Weasley said gently.

George sighed and slid low in his chair. "No, of course not," he admitted, "I'm thrilled for him. I just… we've just always been 'the twins' and now… now we won't be. And besides that, where the bloody hell am I gonna live? I don't really fancy living in the flat by myself."

"You have other friends George," Mr. Weasley reasoned.

"Yeah… yeah I know."

Mrs. Weasley looked at her son with tears in her eyes and opened her mouth to say something when George put a hand in the air.

"Don't you dare, mum."

Arthur laughed and quickly tried to turn it into a cough as Molly gave him a reproachful look. George smirked and shook his head.

"I'm going to go back to the flat. Can um… can you maybe let Fred know I'll be there?"

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice tight.

George nodded and rose from the table.

"Um… thanks," he said awkwardly, avoiding his parents' eyes.

Mrs. Weasley couldn't take it any longer, and she lunged for George, colliding with him and sniffling slightly. George let out a soft 'ooof' and rolled his eyes.

"Ok, ok. Get off of me woman. Honestly."

"Don't talk to your mother like that," Mr. Weasley said sternly, earning a grin from his son.

Mrs. Weasley finally pulled away and George apparated with a sharp crack.

"He'll be fine Molly," Arthur assured her.

"Yes… yes I know," Molly said, still sniffling slightly. "It's just so hard to watch them grow up. To _let_ them grow up. I miss just fixing them with band aids."

Arthur nodded and put his arm around his wife. The house certainly was a different place now that all of his children were grown. He knew in a few years time it would be bustling once again, as he'd surely be a grandfather by then.

The couple stood in the kitchen for a moment, watching their family and friends through the kitchen window.

"You think," Mrs. Weasley asked suddenly, "that they're doing all right?"

Mr. Weasley sighed a little and nodded slowly. He knew who she meant.

"I think so Molly-Wobbles. It's slow going, but they're going to be all right. Ginny is bound a determined to break them of their hermit habits, and healer apprenticing will be good for Ron," he paused for a moment, "Never quite pictured him a healer before, but I suppose it fits nicely."

Molly nodded and held her husband tighter for a moment.

"If nothing else, they at least _look_ healthier," she said into his chest.

"Yes, they do," Mr. Weasley answered, recalling just how thin Hermione had been mere months ago. "Come on Molly, let's get the pudding out there. I'll let Fred know that his prat of a brother is a bit more willing to talk."

"Don't call your sons prats Arthur."

"Yes dear."


	4. Can't Close My Eyes

A/N: Thank you to BloomingViolets for reviewing. I know Ron as a healer seems a bit odd... but I liked it so I'm running with it lol. Anyway, here is chapter three... but I'd like to point out that this story is on alert for 6 people, and it has only recieved 3 reviews... come on people, don't make me beg.

Chapter 3: Can't Close My Eyes

"Harry?"

"What?"

Hermione scowled slightly and settled back into the couch. "Well never mind then," she huffed.

Harry groaned and sprawled out across Hermione's couch. There had been a lot of social interaction throughout the day, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was in a completely foul mood because of it. He had enjoyed the evening with the Weasley's very much, but it was a lot more effort to be sociable than it used to be.

"I'm sorry Hermione. What is it?"

Hermione turned to face Harry, curling her legs up on her armchair so she could adjust her view. Harry really looked rather pathetic, flayed out dramatically across the sofa, and she couldn't help but smile.

"We really need to get out more."

Harry rolled over and buried his head into the cushions and muttered something. Hermione didn't bother to ask.

"Seriously though Harry, I wanted to ask you something a bit… personal."

Harry turned his head so that he could at least speak coherently, but he couldn't be bothered to actually sit up.

"Hermione," he said dryly, "Since when do we need to be careful about asking each other personal questions?"

"Never," Hermione answered, "but I figured that we should at least practice _some_ tact. Not that you or Ron ever do, but I figured I'd try to maintain some semblance of normalcy between our relationships."

Harry snorted, and this time he did sit up. "One: once Ron actually says anything personal it's such a relief that he actually got it out that _tact_ is the last thing I'm ever worried about. Two: does this have anything whatsoever to do with what you wanted to ask me? Because I'm tired and want to go to bed, so if you're going to ask me something, then ask."

Hermione smirked and briefly considered dragging this out further, but decided to have mercy on Harry. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well even if he and Ron both replied with a casual "yeah, fine," whenever she or Ginny asked if they had slept ok.

"I was just wondering if you and Ginny had talked at all. About the two of you."

Harry tensed. "There's nothing to talk about," he stated flatly.

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione said, raising her eyebrows.

Harry kept his eyes determinedly at Hermione's shoulder—a ridiculous tactic since he knew Hermione could read him like one of her books, but he kept his eyes from hers anyway.

"Look Hermione, there is nothing to talk about. She was 16 years old when we went out, and now she's nearly 19! That's a huge difference. Why on earth should I suspect she's still interested after more than two years? We had a thing once, and that's the end of it. She's my friend, and my best mate's little sister, nothing more."

Harry finished and sat rather proudly perched on the couch. He'd wanted and needed to say that for a long time now. All the assumptions everyone made about him and Ginny were preposterous. Why in the world would anyone think she had waited around for him? Who ever came up with that?

"Horse shit."

Harry nearly fell off the couch. Did Hermione just swear? Hermione simply didn't swear. Maybe very mildly in very extreme circumstance, but this was the same girl he had witnessed take a _sectumsempra_ hex to the shoulder and merely respond with an "Oh bugger."

"So much for tact," he replied dryly, "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Hermione looked positively disgusted with him and Harry didn't have the slightest clue why.

"Never mind tact. Harry, how do _you _feel about Ginny. And I want you to answer that question for me without an excuse behind everything you say."

Harry stared at her for a moment, not entirely sure what that was supposed to mean. He couldn't just lie to Hermione though; that would be asking for some pretty strong hexes, and he knew first hand that Hermione knew some good ones. He swallowed and kept his gaze down.

"I don't see what I feel about her has to do with anything."

"Of course you don't. You never see what _your_ feelings have to do with _anything_."

Again, Harry wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but he didn't really want to think about it now. Hermione was a determined little bugger when she wanted to be and he could easily recognize her tone.

"I still feel something for her," he admitted reluctantly, "but…"

"No buts Harry," Hermione cut him off, "no excuses. All I wanted to know was whether or not you felt something for her."

"Well I do."

"Well you should tell her."

"No."

"And why ever not?"

"Because I said so."

"You're incredibly thick."

"Yep."

"And you really aren't as noble as you'd like to think."

"I never said I was."

"This conversation just got completely ridiculous."

"I think it's _been_ completely ridiculous, thank you very much."

"Harry James Potter, you are impossible."

"So I've been told."

Hermione sighed and Harry smirked. They sat in silence for a moment before Hermione stood up and began to pull Harry off of the couch.

"Come on, you need to get some sleep. Tell my roommate to get herself back over here and that sibling bonding time is over. Ron needs his rest just as much as you do."

Harry's smirk broke into a grin and Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"Don't think you've won Harry. You can't ignore her forever."

"Wait a minute, I don't ignore her!" Harry replied, genuinely surprised at the accusation.

Hermione gave him a dubious look, and when she realized he was serious, she let out a long sigh.

"Oh Harry. The air is so thick with nervous tension when you two are in the same room alone it's almost unbearable. If it's all of us, then it's not a problem, but if I walk into a room where the two of you are sitting, it's suffocating."

"Hermione…" Harry's voice suddenly sounded very tired, and Hermione kept her mouth shut. "Please… I don't want to do this now."

Hermione nodded and gave him a quick hug. He smiled at her and let himself out, his mind buzzing with thoughts of Ginny and their non-verbal relationship. That's essentially all it was these days, unless they were with Hermione and Ron.

_Stop thinking about it,_ he told himself, _she deserves someone much less dysfunctional._

"Night Harry."

Harry jumped at the sound of Ginny's voice. She gave him a confused look and he realized he was staring at her awkwardly as she went to turn the handle of her door.

"Um, everything alright?"

Harry shook himself and laughed. "Yeah, sorry. Night Gin."

Ginny rolled her eyes and entered her flat, deciding that tonight was not the night to try and figure out the enigma that was Harry Potter.

Locking the door behind her, Ginny headed to the couch and flopped down next to Hermione.

"Tea?" she said to Hermione with a pleading look.

Hermione just smirked and flicked her wand lazily as a kettle appeared out of thin air.

"Love you."

Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed at Ginny. She was now the second person to pathetically sprawl out across her couch in the last 15 minutes.

"Rough night?" Hermione teased and Ginny groaned in response.

"I just spent the last hour trying to explain to Ron what's going on with Fred and George. Honestly, how did he _ever_ get into the healer program?"

"Hey now," Hermione huffed, "He can be quite brilliant when he tries." She paused as her brow creased in thought, "Well, sometimes anyway. It's actually practical things that he's really good at. He's rubbish at potions because it's all theory, but healing is all very hands on and practical— seems to be his strength."

Ginny just rolled her eyes and pulled herself up to pour some tea.

"Well still," she said, after Hermione refused Ginny's offer of tea, "You try explaining to Ron Weasley that his twin brothers are trying to cope with their lives not being in tandem for once. You would have thought I was trying to explain to him how muggle ecklectricity works." She sighed and once again flopped backwards into the couch. "I'd like to know what it's like to be an only child for once."

Hermione snorted and shook her head at her roommate.

"It's horribly dull and lonely. Don't get me wrong, my parents are great, but my house is going to be stocked full of kids."

Ginny arched an eyebrow and tilted her head in surprise. "Really?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. After visiting your house for the first time all those summers ago, I knew I wanted my house to be just like it."

Ginny shrugged and took a long sip of tea before looking back at Hermione with the infamous Weasley glint of mischief in her eyes.

"Ron wants a house full of kids too," she said silkily.

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to look at Ginny who was grinning cheekily.

"Oh does he now?"

Ginny nodded and Hermione shook her head.

"And why, Ginerva, would I care what kind of family _Ron_ wants?"

Ginny just shrugged and Hermione laughed, shoving Ginny's shoulder in mock indignation.

1111111111111111111

Harry groaned and sat up in his bed. It was positively unnerving that he couldn't sleep in a bed. He tried not to think about how odd it was, but he couldn't help it. Every time he crawled into bed, he'd just end up starring at the ceiling for hours. He had tryouts in a few days, and he knew he would need his rest.

His conversation with Hermione probably wasn't helping matters any. He was fine around Ginny as long as he didn't have to think about how pretty she was, or how her boldness was amazingly attractive, or how she constantly made efforts to help the trio without being obnoxious about it, or how she teased Ron in a way only a sibling could, or how she made his stomach drop when she told a funny story, or how his heart leapt into his throat whenever she flicked her hair over her shoulder, or how her whole face lit up when she talked about quiditch, or… uhg! This certainly wasn't helping.

With another groan, Harry flung his pillow and duvet to the floor and crawled down after them. He settled himself down on the carpet and closed his eyes when a gut wrenching scream filled his ears.

Ron.

Everything about Harry transformed into an instinctual creature. He shot out of his make shift bed and groped for his glasses, his wand already in hand. None of them admitted it openly, but the trio still slept with their wands.

He took off down the short hallway towards Ron's room, forcing himself not to blow the door off its hinges.

When he burst through Ron's doorway, he immediately flung his wand out, prepared to strike. The sight before him however, was not what he expected.

Ron was clutching the footboard of his bed in an attempt to stand up, his entire body shaking and his jaw clenched tightly. Ron obviously slept on the floor as well, but Harry wasn't concerned with that at the moment. Ron grit his teeth and crouched low, a suppressed scream making its way through his clenched jaw like a growl.

"Ron?" Harry asked, unsure whether or not to put his wand away. "Ron, what's wrong?"

Ron's head snapped up to look at Harry, his face contorted in pain.

"Curse," was all Ron managed to get out before he doubled over again.

Harry looked at his friend, dumbfounded, before he remembered about the curse Ron had told him Macnair had hit him with. Something about night torture or… something; Harry couldn't quite remember the details. Shaking himself back to the present Harry looked frantically around the room, clueless as to what was even happening to Ron.

Ron was gripping the footboard so tightly his knuckles were turning white. He was once again muffling a scream into his tightly closed mouth and Harry knew he was going to panic if he didn't think of a way to help his friend soon. This was Hermione's field, not his.

Without knowing what else to do, Harry cast a silencing charm on Ron's room and Ron instantly let out a howling wail of pain.

Harry winced, unsure if touching Ron to help him up was a good idea.

"Ron," he said, trying to stay calm, "You've got to try to talk to me. Tell me what to do."

Ron took a gulp of air, and looked up at Harry, his eyes pricked with unshed tears. He pulled himself up and Harry was instantly at his side, helping him sit down on the bed.

Ron curled up on his side, trembling from head to foot. Harry just watched helplessly as the pain seemed to subside for the moment.

"I can't close my eyes," Ron said shakily.

"What?"

"I… can't… close…" Ron paused and tried to steady his breathing. "Turn around," he said suddenly, and Harry gave him a quizzical look.

Ron looked pleadingly at Harry and so the dark haired boy did as he was asked and turned away from Ron who, Harry realized, was now being sick in the wastebasket by Ron's bed.

When Harry could tell he had finished, he turned around to face Ron again, who was once again curled up and shaking, concentrating very hard on breathing in and out.

Harry took a tentative step towards his friend, his heart thudding in his ears. He still had no idea what to do.

Ron suddenly gripped the sheets and howled in anguish again, squeezing his eyes shut against the shockwaves of pain. He thrashed violently and his eyes flew open. He desperately looked around the room, his eyes seeking Harry's.

"Don't let me close them!" he pleaded before writhing in agony again, his eyes tearing up with the desire to shut out the pain.

Harry looked around wildly, trying to come up with something, _anything_.

"I'm going to get Hermione."

Ron's arm instantly lashed out at Harry as he dug his fingers into his best friend's arm, biting his lip in torment.

"Ron, I don't know what else to do!" Harry explained, his voice rising with panic.

"Just," Ron gasped, releasing his grip on Harry only to pull his hands through his wild mass of red hair. "Not like this," he managed to gasp out.

Harry bit his lip and sat down next to Ron, understanding what he meant. Yes, Hermione had seen Ron tortured, seen him in excruciating pain, but this was different. It was different to be facing pain and torture at someone else's hands than it was to writhe around on your bed in tearful agony. Ron didn't want Hermione to see him like this, and Harry understood that. He knew Ron didn't even want _Harry _seeing him like this, but he didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

Another shock of pain ran through Ron's body and he instinctively slid his eyes closed, only to immediately begin thrashing wildly before releasing a scream of terror, rather than pain.

Harry tensed before launching at Ron, pinning his arms at his sides.

"Ron! Open your eyes Ron! It's me! Look at me damnit!"

Ron's eyes snapped open and he desperately filled his lungs with air. Harry didn't move, continuing to pin Ron's arms down and look directly at Ron. Hot tears made their way down Ron's face and Harry knew Ron wouldn't be able to look directly at him for days after this. Even now, Ron tried to look away as his body tensed under Harry's firm hold and more tears made their way down his fevered cheeks.

"Ron," Harry said firmly, "Look at me Ron. You've got to look at me."

Ron complied, concentrating on Harry's eyes for as long as he could before the pain intensified and he tried to squirm from Harry's lock on him.

"Fight it Ron," Harry commanded, his voice much stronger than he felt. He had know idea why Ron had been so desperate for Harry not to let him close his eyes, but Harry knew that he had to do it somehow. If this is what it took, so be it.

"Come on Ron!" Harry bellowed, his voice breaking slightly at the look of torment on his best friend's features. Ron was desperately trying to break away in an attempt to ease the pain shooting through him.

"I can't let you go Ron, you… you said you couldn't close your eyes. Keep looking at me. Damnit Ron! Keep looking at me!"

Ron obeyed, growling and howling in pain in the process as Harry's last resolve broke and he barely kept his own tears from falling. He had thought this was over. He was haunted by the faces of his friends being tormented every night in his nightmares but now it felt like _he_ was doing the tormenting.

"Harry," Ron choked out as the pain dulled for the moment, "I meant it, don't let me close my eyes."

"I won't." Harry promised, just before Ron began to writhe in pain again.

Harry had no idea how long he wrestled with Ron. Ron was at least 5 inches taller than Harry and just as strong, so it was only by sheer willpower that Harry managed to keep pinning the red head down, forcing him to look at Harry. Even when Ron blinked he would shudder and Harry had to wonder what it was that was making him react like this.

He kept his promise. He never let Ron keep his eyes closed for long. It wasn't until the first rays of sunlight broke through the curtain of the bedroom window that Ron's breathing became normal, and he gradually relaxed in Harry's vice-like grip.

"Ron?" Harry said tentatively; he wasn't sure whether he could let go yet or not.

Ron's glassy eyes seemed to really focus on Harry for once, and he nodded his head slowly. Harry released his grip, wincing at the finger shaped bruises he left behind.

The two friends sat in awkward silence for a long time, sitting side by side on the edge of Ron's bed. Ron finally stopped panting after a few minutes and peeled his sweat soaked shirt over his head and ran a hand shakily through his hair.

"This isn't good," Harry finally voiced.

"No kidding," Ron replied, swallowing hard.

"What the hell was happening? Why couldn't you close your eyes?"

Ron's face visibly paled and Harry thought for a moment his friend was going to be sick again. Ron shook himself and shuddered involuntarily.

"Images… I can't… every time I closed my eyes it's all I could see."

Ron was shaking once again and he kept his head in his hands, willing the churning in his stomach to stop. Harry looked at him, slightly confused.

"Images? Nightmares are nothing new to us Ron. I mean, I know better than most just how bad…"

"_No!_ Not like this Harry. This is nothing like a nightmare. It's so real I can smell it. I can feel it. I just… it was so… not even in my nightmares have… I mean…"

"Whoa, whoa, ok. You don't have to explain," Harry said, startled at Ron's reaction. Just talking about it made Ron look absolutely frazzled.

Ron took a deep breath and nodded.

"What are we gonna do Ron? What _is _it?"

Ron sighed and flopped backwards onto his back.

"The i_nsomnioto_ curse I told you I was hit with… that was it. I…" Ron closed his eyes tentatively before letting out a sigh, "…I looked into them a bit more. It's a really dark curse. I fall asleep, and then get woken up to searing pain and… and those images every time I close my eyes."

Harry blinked and twisted around to face Ron properly. Seeing his confused expression Ron began to explain further.

"It's really twisted. The pain is to try and force you to close your eyes. That's just a natural reaction to pain; close your eyes to it and try to sleep it off… not that I could have slept that off mind you, but you get the idea. It starts when you try to sleep at night, and it'll stop once dawn rolls around."

"Wait… so this will just happen randomly for the rest of your life?"

Ron bit his lip and shook his head slowly.

"It'll happen every night until I find away to throw it off. Bit like the _imperius_ really. You get better with practice, but the stronger the curse, the harder it is to shake. Macnair is no joke mate… I couldn't even _think_ about trying to throw it off."

Ron's words hung in the air as the full implication of the curse settled on Harry. His best mate couldn't sleep. Not, 'his best mate couldn't sleep without suffering.' It simply wasn't possible; the curse made it so the victim physically could not sleep.

"Well," Harry said calmly, "We'll just have to flip the schedule up a bit, right? Sleep in the day. We can go to bed just before dawn so you can practice fighting it off for a bit and eventually you'll be able to do it."

Ron again shook his head slowly.

"Harry… it… it won't work like that. People have tried that. The curse just fluctuates to your sleeping pattern. It's like I said, it's really dark stuff—very crafty, complicated, and above all else: cruel. Besides, I can't just sleep all day. I start Healer training soon."

Harry sat, his back to Ron, in silence. He was wracking his brain for solutions but he wasn't finding any. Had it not been for the fact that they had been in similar situations before, Harry and Ron would both be in a state of panic. As it was, they were simply immune to shock now. Going through the things they had gone through, one simply had to learn to cope.

That didn't make it any easier though. The situation was serious and they both knew it. Harry dropped his head into his hands and shook his head.

"Merlin Ron, I'm so sorry. This is all…"

"_Don't!_ Harry James Potter I swear if you say this is your fault I will hex you into next week. This isn't about you, got it?"

Harry clamped his mouth shut and nodded. Ron and Hermione had at long last found the key to making Harry realize that he didn't need to take the blame for every bad thing that ever happened. They had informed him rather bluntly that it was ridiculously selfish to take the blame for things. It transferred all the attention on him rather than on whoever was suffering. Harry still felt responsible for a lot of things, but it at the very least put a dent in the huge Harry Potter guilt complex.

The two friends sat in silence for awhile before it dawned on them that if Ron didn't sleep now, he probably wouldn't get the chance to again for another 24 hours. Harry went back to his bed with the promise to wake Ron in time to go to the girls' flat for breakfast. That way Ron's sleeping pattern wouldn't be skewed and he would still be able to sleep at least a couple of hours.

Neither Harry nor Ron had any idea what they were going to do when the next night came, but there wasn't anything they could do about it now.

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Please Review :-)


	5. A Handsome Blonde

A/N: Thank you sooo very much to those of you who have reviewed. I would thank you more personally... but it's after 2 in the morning and I have class at 8am... so just know that I appreciate your response so much that I'm posting a new chapter even though I should reeeally be sleeping right now. Remember, any comments, criticisms, and ideas are welcomed. Again, thank you so much.

Second, I have decided that at the beginning of every chapter is going to be a flashback scene from the war. This way, I don't have to insert random explanations and flashbacks into the story itself, and it will also serve as a bit of backdrop to the characters' relationships and all of that. The flashbacks may or may not be directly related to events in the story... I'll reference them if needed... for the most part they're just here for background and interest.

Without further rambling...

Chapter 4: A Handsome Blonde

_Harry's wand fell to the ground as he stared at the pile of smoldering ashes before him. He could feel Ron to his left, sinking to the ground, and Hermione to his right, stiff as a board and her wand hand trembling in front of her. The air began to pop as death eaters began to apparate away in terror and Order Members began to arrive. Harry could hardly breathe. Harry _wasn't_ breathing._

"_Come on Potter," Mad Eye Moody's hoarse voice instructed as gently as it knew how. "Take a deep breath, that's a boy."_

_Harry gasped, air filling his lungs as he continued to stare, unblinking, ahead of him. There was still fighting going on—death eaters refusing to surrender, trying to take out as many aurors as they could before their now imminent defeat._

"_I've got him Alastor," Lupin's voice entered. "Find Bill Weasley, he's in that direction. Arthur and Molly aren't here yet."_

_Harry was vaguely aware of Hermione lowering her wand hand while Tonks whispered soothingly to her as she guided Hermione firmly away from the pile of ash. Harry still didn't blink as Lupin began to mutter incantations over Harry's wounds. He was covered in blood; his robe was caked in mud and crimson fluid from both himself and probably Ron and Hermione._

"_Harry? Harry! Breathe Harry!" Lupin took Harry's blood covered face in his hands and stood directly in front of him, blocking the pile of ash from Harry's line of sight. "Please Harry; breathe."_

_Harry blinked, but his eyes still didn't completely focus on his surrogate father. He forced air into his lungs and swayed slightly. He hadn't even known he was dizzy._

"_Let's get you out of here," Lupin said softly._

_Harry tensed and inclined his head towards Ron, not really seeing him but needing to know if he was alright. He could see Hermione with Tonks; she was standing—she must have been alright. But Ron?_

_Ron sat on the ground, his knees pulled tightly to his chest and his forehead resting against them, trembling from head to foot. Had Harry been able to process things better, he would have realized that Ron's shaking had nothing to do with the cold. Ron Weasley's entire body was wracked with sobs, his fingers gripping into his matted red hair._

_Bill appeared seconds later, running flat out towards the trio. He skidded to his knees behind his youngest brother and without a moments hesitation pulled him fiercely into his chest. Ron fell backwards into Bill's arms and Bill allowed himself to crumple with him, completely unfazed by the many eyes around them. Ron clung to his brother, desperate for the contact, and Bill bowed his head into his baby brother's shoulder, shedding tears of his own. _

"_It's over Ron; everything's ok; it's over…"_

_Harry forced himself to breathe, once again not even realizing he was getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Lupin placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and gently turned him away from the Weasley's and blocked his view of Hermione and Tonks, who was pulling Hermione's hair out of her face as the cleverest Gryffindor of their year dry heaved into the grass. _

"_Let's go Harry," Lupin said softly, "They'll be alright. Tonks and Bill have them. Come on."_

_Harry tried to comply but found himself rooted to the ground, completely immobile. He looked up at Lupin, desperately trying to make him understand. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. He could hardly even _see_. He ached; every part of his body hurt. And he was numb. He had no emotion what so ever. He wasn't even affected by his sobbing best friend on the ground next to him. _

_Lupin looked into Harry's green eyes—the eyes Lily Potter had given to him. Harry's eyes had yet to actually focus on anything and Lupin understood. He knew. _

"_It's alright Harry," Lupin whispered, bringing his forehead to rest on Harry's. "It's going to be alright, I swear to you. I swear to your parents…"_

_With a strength Lupin hadn't even been aware he possessed, the lithe werewolf pulled one arm across Harry's solid shoulders and scooped the other under Harry's legs. With barely a grunt, the last surviving marauder carried the 19 year old body of the boy who lived—now the man who lived again— the son of his dead best friend, away from the ashes of the darkest wizard of their time. _

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It had been two nights since Ron's insomnia began and no one other than he and Harry knew anything about it. They really hadn't come up with anything more successful than Harry wrestling Ron down and forcing him to look him in the face for hours on end. It was exhausting and awkward, but they didn't have much of a choice for the time being. Harry had suggested Ron take a sleeping drought, but Ron had refused vehemently. Apparently it was either lie awake in excruciating pain, or sleep with the horrific visions. Harry hadn't pushed the issue. He trusted whatever it was Ron saw behind closed eyelids at night was not worth a few hours sleep.

Harry had tryouts to get through, and so Ron refused to just let Harry suffer along with him. He had slipped Harry sleeping potion during the day so his friend remained well rested, much to Harry's annoyance. Ron had just been relieved he had brewed the potion properly, and told Harry to stuff it with his guilt; there was no point in them both suffering. The trio was actually accustomed to going a few days with very little sleep, so Ron really hadn't been showing any ill effects just yet, but they knew it would happen eventually.

The morning of Harry's tryouts had arrived however, and the boys simply did as they did every morning: pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened the night before.

"Harry…"

"Yeah?" Harry looked up at Ginny from his cereal. Her eyes were fixed on Ron with interest.

"Since when did he start doing _that?_"

Harry looked over at Ron, who was currently doing pull ups on a broomstick he had magically suspended in midair. He was counting quietly to himself and seemed to be barely struggling on pull number 73.

Harry shrugged. "We both do."

Ginny looked over at him with a look of confusion and mild surprise.

"What? It's not like there's anything else to do while you're hanging out in the woods waiting for a death eater to get a move on. The Prophet can make it sound as glamorous as it wants, but there was a lot of just waiting around involved in horcrux hunting. Besides, lots of guys work out."

Ginny wrinkled her nose and looked back at her brother who was now on the ground, immersed in a round of push ups.

"Yeah but… you two?" she asked.

Harry smirked at the red head and raised an eyebrow. "Part of me thinks I should be offended."

"Well no," Ginny stammered, "I just… I don't know. Since when do you and Ron care about stuff like that? Guys like Blaise or Dean beef up, not guys like you and Ron."

"I find it highly entertaining that you're so baffled by this," Harry snickered.

Hermione bustled into the flat in that moment, not bothering to knock, and set two potions down in front of Harry.

"You're really lucky I was able to get these brewed in time. If I hadn't found a book with modified brewing instructions, I never would have had enough time to do them. Who knew beauty potions would be so time consuming!?"

Harry wrinkled his nose and looked up at Hermione in confusion. "Huh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down. "Just drink it. They'll last all day, and you're body won't change at all—just your hair and eyes and what not. I know it would throw you off if you had to fly with an entirely different body type. If I'd had more time I would have come up with something to change the bone structure in your face a bit but… well there it is."

"Hermione," Ginny said suddenly, her eyes still on her older brother, "Did you know Harry and Ron worked out?"

Hermione looked over at Ron, who had moved on to sit ups. Her eyes lingered slightly longer than necessary before she turned back to Ginny.

"Yeah. Who do you think taught them how to suspend that broomstick?"

"_Accio_ end table," Ron called before transfiguring the small end table into a dumbbell.

"And how to do that," Harry added for Hermione.

Ginny just shook her head. "Right, well this is just too weird. Drink up Harry, you've only got about 5 minutes."

Harry looked at the two potions in front of him with distaste before quickly downing them like shots of firewhisky.

"Uhg… Hermione, if you can come up with a way to make potions not taste absolutely vile, I'll be convinced that you really are as bright as everyone says."

"As if you don't believe that already," Ron said, joining them in the dining room and downing the remains of Ginny's pumpkin juice.

"Oh, by all means, help yourself," she muttered.

"Thanks," Ron replied, placing the now empty glass back in front of his sister. "You two best be off. You'll want to warm up and all of that before… bloody hell Harry."

"What?"

Ron grinned and attempted to hide a laugh. Harry's hair had become a stellar golden blonde and his eyes were now a deep brown. Most miraculous of all however, was the complete absence of the infamous lighting scar across Harry's forehead.

"Nice work Hermione," Ginny commented, "Though I must admit I much prefer the green eyes."

"All right enough making fun of me, let's go Gin," Harry said, standing up and taking once last swig of his juice.

"Forgetting something?" Ginny asked innocently.

Harry just looked at her blankly before Ginny sighed and gestured absently to Harry's firebolt. Harry blushed and retrieved it, trying to hide his nerves from his three friends. They weren't fooled, but they kept their mouths shut and commented encouragingly before Harry and Ginny aparrated to the check in point for Puddlemere's tryouts.

"Ron," Hermione said, her nose already in a book as she munched on her toast, "do you think we could go in to Diagon Alley today? I need to restock some of my potions ingredients, and there're a few books I want to pick up as well."

"Sure," Ron replied, taking a seat across from her. He paused for a moment and opened his mouth before shutting it again, his leg twitching nervously.

Ron knew he was awful with words. It was a commonly known fact among his family and friends that Ron simply had trouble stringing sentences together to express how he thought about something, or worse, how he _felt_ about something. Honestly though, he couldn't figure out why he found it so difficult to verbalize a sentence he'd actually already been able to formulate accurately.

"Hermione," he said, figuring he may as well just blurt it out quickly before he lost his nerve. "Maybe… maybe we could get dinner too… while we're in London… if you want."

"Sure," Hermione said absently, nose still in the book she was reading, "By the way, take that broom down before someone looses an eye."

Ron raised an eyebrow and before he could retort that he was 6 foot 3 and still in no danger whatsoever of losing an eye with the broomstick as high as it was, it dawned on him that Hermione hadn't really understood what he meant. Of course she wouldn't, he realized, they had dinner together just about every night.

"No… Hermione… I meant…"

Hermione looked up at him from behind her book, waiting.

"Never mind," Ron said lamely, and got up to remove his makeshift pull up bar. "There's an owl at the window, you want to let it in?" he added, stashing the broom in a cupboard.

Hermione looked up from her book and frowned at the window. She knew these owls. They all knew these owls. Since the fall of Voldermort, his death eaters had been the next big target. It was mass chaos. Some fled, some proudly marched their way to be kissed by dementors, some begged for mercy, some renounced Voldermort. The list went on and on. The court rooms had been positively booming since December.

Because of all the trio had witnessed, their testimonies were often needed at the trials. It had become rather ridiculous however, and the ministry practically expected them to camp out on the courtroom floor. In the end, Tonks had been able to put a stop to things. She assured them the only time they would be requested to testify was if the situation truly called for their specific witness. Most of the time, there was so much evidence against the accused already, that it simply wasn't necessary to have the trio present.

Hermione sighed and allowed the ministry owl to step through the window and relieved it of its letter before the owl hooted and took off out the window again. Hermione broke the ministry seal and scanned the letter, tensing as she reviewed its contents.

"It was a ministry owl wasn't it?" Ron's voice called from the other room. "Must be important if Tonks went ahead and allowed them to contact us. Do they want you, me, or Harry?"

Ron stopped as he entered the kitchen to find Hermione starring at the letter, her eyes unfocused and jaw firmly clenched.

"Hermione?"

Without a word, Hermione held the letter out to Ron, who quickly scanned it before snapping his eyes back to Hermione.

"I knew it would come eventually," she said quietly.

Ron nodded and set the letter down carefully on the table. "Do you know what you're going to do?"

Hermione nodded and met Ron's eyes slowly. "I have to go Ron. I can't just… not say anything. They'll give him the kiss otherwise… you know that."

Ron stepped forward and put his arms around Hermione. "I'll be there too. So will Harry I'm sure. And I promise we'll behave ourselves."

Hermione laughed slightly and hit Ron playfully on the shoulder. "I know. I don't want to think about this right now. The trial isn't for another week yet. Go get changed so we can head to Diagon Alley."

Ron reluctantly let go of Hermione and nodded. He wasn't convinced that Hermione was entirely ok with this, but he knew she wouldn't be convinced not to attend the trial. He would do the same if he were in her position. He made a mental note of the date and time of the trial, then tossed the ministry letter in the bin on his way out of the kitchen.

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Harry sat awkwardly along the wall of lockers, trying not to think about what the heck he was doing here. Ginny had registered him personally for the tryouts, using his real name and identity. The department for Magical Games and Sports took care of all the paper work side of the tryouts so that the coaches and captain could make a less bias selection. The athletes were registered, and then given a large number to wear during the tryouts so that they remained anonymous.

That was the theory anyway. Harry had a hard time believing that if he actually looked like himself at the moment the coaches would have a much harder time selecting fairly. A number couldn't hide a scar, but thankfully Hermione's potion could.

The group of quiditch hopefuls, a total of around 20, had been given a chance to warm up and was now awaiting their official tryout to begin. Harry recognized one of the athletes from his quiditch days at Hogwarts but couldn't place a name. He was thinking Hufflepuff but he couldn't be sure.

"All right you lot, head on out to the pitch!" a voice called from somewhere near the exit.

Harry took a breath and headed out with the rest of the players all looking a bit apprehensive. Ginny had told him that this type of tryout was actually extremely unusual. They hadn't held one in years because scouts usually hand picked their players while watching them play for the schools. That had been how Oliver Wood had ended up on the team. The war had made scouting a bit difficult in the past few years however, since many parents had chosen to home school.

Harry vaguely wondered if he would see Wood at all as he wondered out onto the pitch. All thoughts of Wood forgotten, Harry relished in the feeling of being out on a pitch again. It had been too long as far as he was concerned and he couldn't wait to get in the air.

He indeed had to wait however. The first thing the captain told them to do was set their brooms aside. They were going to run laps.

'_Perfect, just what I need before I spend a night wrestling with my best mate. Juuuust wonderful.' _

Harry didn't have time to mentally complain for much longer. The captain kept him too busy to think about much else other than running and following orders. It dawned on him that this was basically just a physical stamina test. They were going to be exhausted by the time they got on their brooms and that way the coaches would see how they could really play.

He was right. By the time they were in the air there was only 15 people left and Harry was glad he and Ron had kept up with their morning workout routines regardless of the fact they weren't in the midst of battles at any given moment. That had been the core reason they worked out anyway. Sure it killed time, like Harry had told Ginny, but they had needed the strength to fight physically just as much as they needed their wands.

"Spread out!" the captain called out from somewhere below the athletes. "On my whistle. 3…2…"

A sharp whistle filled the air and the 15 men and women on broomsticks went into a dive. At the sound of the captain's whistle, they pulled out and returned to their starting points. This went on for ages, the whistle commanding when they dove and when they pulled out.

Harry relished in the wind howling around his ears. He and Ron had done a lot of flying during the war, but none like this. This was entirely different and Harry loved it. He pulled sharply out of a perfectly vertical dive and returned to his starting point once again, ever mindful of the whistle.

By the time the captain even involved the snitch, only 5 athletes remained on the pitch. Harry had long forgotten his nervousness and couldn't help but grin as the snitch was released. This was going to be fun.

Harry had been in dozens of quiditch games, but had only ever been after the snitch against one other person before. Having 5 people after it made things much more interesting. At first, it was horribly dull, but once the snitch was spotted, they were off.

It took Harry a few moments of highly complicated maneuvering to realize that whoever number 2498 was had faked sighting the snitch to throw the others off, and Harry had to admit it had been an impressive move. Of the 5 players on the pitch, Harry determined only 2 of them were his actual competition. The other 2 were doing well, but they were noticeably tiring and it would no doubt affect their flying.

Then he saw it. It was like he was back at Hogwarts all over again, the Gryffindors cheering wildly in his mind as he sped off towards the fluttering piece of gold. The two athletes Harry had considered a threat were already right on his tail, the player to his left roughly flying up next to him in an attempt to throw him off course. Harry ignored him. Countless games against Slytherin had taught him that playing rough would only screw you over in the end.

He was right. The rough player had ended up spiraling off after attempting to shove 2498 off course. It was just Harry and 2498 now, the other two players had no chance of keeping up. Suddenly, the snitch took off beneath them and both players instantly dove after it.

Harry pulled himself close to his broomstick and urged his firebolt faster. It was a tight dive, and the ground was rushing up to meet the two athletes with alarming speed. Harry spared a glance to his left to see a nervous but determined expression flicker across 2498's face. Harry tucked his head in for a brief moment, giving him enough speed to inch just ahead of his opponent. The ground was closing in now and the snitch was still just out of reach.

Harry couldn't help himself; he grinned.

The split second that 2498 pulled out of the dive, Harry pulled back on the very front of his broomstick and swung his feet up on top of the firebolt, providing enough leverage to pull out of the dive and continue on horizontally, rather than having to pull away from the ground. Standing on the edge of the broom, Harry took his hands off and in one fluid motion grabbed for the snitch. As his hands enclosed around the fluttering ball of gold, he kicked forward on his broom and leapt gracefully onto solid ground, his firebolt landing neatly in his open and waiting left palm.

A scattering of applause filled the pitch as department workers and coaches alike clapped appreciatively. Harry caught Ginny's eye in the stand and winked up at her. She grinned broadly at him and gestured to the coach's box. The coaches and game personnel were gesturing wildly to each other and chattering quickly. Harry hoped it was a good thing.

He turned to look for 2498 to congratulate the impressive athlete and instead found himself surrounded by the current team members of Puddlemere United. He had to remind himself that Oliver Wood wouldn't recognize him as his former captain clapped him across the back and congratulated him on the play.

"Very impressive," he said approvingly. "I haven't seen a dive quite like that since…"

Wood trailed off, unnoticed due to the other comments being exchanged. Harry looked at him, grinning and nodding slowly as Oliver seemed to be turning something over in his mind. Wood smirked and nodded back before clearing out so that the coaches and staff could announce the decision, though it looked to be quite obvious that Harry had made the team.

"Congratulations!" the head coach announced, "You all played very well, but it is clear that 9353 is the strongest choice. I haven't seen a performance like that in years! What's your name son? Someone pull this kid's file so we can find out who he is!"

Ginny appeared moments later, holding a stack of folders, and pulled one out labeled 9353. She was grinning wildly and Harry knew he must be blushing.

"Thank you Miss… Weasley? Yes, thank you very much."

Harry wished the coach would hurry up already. He wanted to get this part over with as soon as possible. He knew the prophet would have an absolute field day. He'd have to owl Luna and tell her he'd like to give the Quibbler an exclusive. He loved ticking off the Prophet.

The coach fumbled with the folder and rifled through the papers. He seemed thrilled about his new seeker and Harry tried to wrack his brain to remember the man's name. He really ought to know it, but he'd been a little out of touch with things like this for the past few years or so.

"Ah… here we go. Hogwarts student! Should've known. Only 6 years there. Gryffindor… 'atta boy; played for them in my days at Hogwarts. You know him Wood?" Wood grinned but the coach wasn't waiting for an answer. "Youngest seeker in a century, good heavens." Harry was getting a bit anxious now. He couldn't understand why he hadn't bothered to look at his name yet. Wood looked just about ready to burst. "Captain in your 6th year, very good, very good. Can't imagine why I haven't ever seen you before…"

"He's Harry bloody Potter!" Wood shouted, unable to contain himself any longer. "Best damn seeker I've ever flown with!"

Harry smacked his hand over his eyes at the nearly instantaneous result of Oliver's outburst. Everyone in the small crowd around Harry (with the exception of Ginny and Oliver) turned and gaped at him with confused expressions on their faces. The coach stared at Oliver, then Harry, and then back down at the folder in his hands.

"Great Merlin," the coach muttered, "So you are."

"Like the new look Potter," Wood teased, seemingly the only one other than Ginny completely unfazed that Harry Potter was standing next to them. Harry was relieved that at least Wood was being perfectly normal towards him.

"Hermione thought I'd make a handsome blonde. I have to say I disagree," Harry replied, ignoring the stares.

There were a few gasps at Harry's casual reference to Hermione. She and Ron were just as famous as Harry now, and it caught him off guard when people thought it as fascinating that he knew Ron and Hermione as they would if he had said he regularly dined with the Weird Sisters.

"Well…" the coach finally said, getting over his initial shock, "Welcome to Puddlemere United Mr. Potter!"

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The fact that Ron had casually agreed to Hermione's casual suggestion of a casual trip to Hogsmeade was, in actuality, not casual in the slightest. It was simply a matter of they really ought to get out of the flat, even though neither had any desire to do so. Besides, Ginny shut up for at least 3 days after they actually went out in public voluntarily.

"Do you think he made it? Harry I mean," Ron asked.

He was standing with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, a bored look on his face, as Hermione ran her finger along row after row of books. He knew he would probably have better luck making conversation with a wall at this point, but his boredom was taking over his more rational side.

"Yeah sure," Hermione said distractedly and Ron just rolled his eyes in amusement.

"Do you think I'm the most handsome bloke to ever walk the earth?"

"Uh huh."

"What about Harry? He's pretty good looking too, ya know?"

"Yes, yes of course."

Ron was grinning now, thoroughly pleased with himself for finding something to entertain himself with in a bookstore.

"So you think the gossip magazines have a point when they say Harry and I would make a handsome couple?"

"Certainly," Hermione replied, her brow furrowed at a particular set of books.

"…And that it's true Harry and I are shagging each other every night?"

At long last, Hermione looked up at Ron, confusion written on her face. "What?"

Ron burst into laughter at the look on Hermione's face and a blush crept across her cheeks.

"I'm sorry Ron. I get a bit distracted."

"You think?"

"Sorry. Here, these are actually for you," Hermione bristled, handing over a rather large stack of books to a dumbfounded Ron.

"Beg your pardon?"

"For Healer training. Those are the required texts."

Ron looked from the pile of books in his arms and back at Hermione. He knew he needed books but he hadn't had any idea which ones. He probably would have forgotten to buy them all together.

"Uh… thanks. I'd be lost without you."

Hermione smiled and picked up her own stack of books from off the floor.

"I know."

Ron shook his head and rolled his eyes at her.

"Come on, let's get some dinner," Ron suggested, stifling a yawn.

Hermione reluctantly pulled herself away from the aisles of books and exited Flourish and Blotts with three bags laden with books which Ron dutifully relieved her of.

"You don't have to carry those you know," Hermione told him.

"I'm aware."

"Then why do you?"

Ron looked over at his friend with a mixture of confusion and surprise. Why on earth would she ask a question like that? He had always thought that carrying a girl's things was just something blokes did. It was just nice. That was it.

"Uhh… to be nice?"

Hermione just shook her head and decided to let it go. She wondered if Ron even realized that she was the only person Ron willingly took books and packages and the like from. He never seemed to notice when Ginny had her arms full.

"Shall we stop by Fred and George's before we get something to eat? Or did you want to get back, you look tired."

Ron frowned and thought for a second. "We'll visit them some other time. I'm actually hungry and if I don't eat now I'll forget I was hungry and then Ginny will throw a tantrum because I didn't eat anything… again."

Hermione smirked and nodded. "Yeah, good point."

The two walked in comfortable silence for a while and Hermione considered slipping her hand into Ron's to see if he'd notice, but he was carrying all of her books at the moment, and she didn't really think he'd react all that calmly. Part of her wished he would just crack already and say something about their relationship and what he really thought about it. Sometimes she thought that maybe she was crazy, and that Ron didn't really feel anything for her at all aside from friendship. But then he would do something off the wall or say something completely out of character and she'd be completely confused again. In essence, they both knew they were more than friends, but they weren't quite 'Ron and Hermione' either.

"Hey, isn't that Collin Creevy?" Ron interrupted her thoughts.

Hermione squinted towards where Ron was pointing, trying to make out the face of the boy he was referring to. It was a bit difficult since said face was currently attached to another person's face. The couple pulled apart and Hermione let out a slight gasp of surprise.

"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed, "It is Collin! And he's snogging Luna!"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, "Don't be so crass. They weren't _snogging_; he was just giving her a kiss."

"Still," Ron replied, "Collin Creepy was definitely locking lips with Looney Lovegood."

Hermione stepped on Ron's foot, as he had been talking rather loudly and the couple was making their way towards them.

"Ron! Hermione!" Collin called excitedly.

Ron barely suppressed a groan as the many people crowding Diagon Alley turned to stare at them. He wished they would all just put their eyes back in their heads.

"Collin, Luna, it's so good to see you," Hermione replied, giving them each a brief hug before Ron and Collin shook hands.

"I really wish you two, and Harry of course, would actually come out to the pub with us every once in awhile," Collin told them, a hint of scolding in his voice that was quite unlike the young and overexcited Collin they once knew. He and Luna had both become order members when they became of age, as most of the DA had done, and it must have settled him down some.

"Yeah well, we really are planning on it eventually," Ron said lamely.

Luna smiled serenely at him and Ron looked away before she could give him the creeps. Her blank stares had always unsettled him a bit. Now that he thought about it, someone as excitable and fascinated by the magical world as Collin was a perfect match for Luna and all her eccentricities. He probably found her just as fascinating as he did everything else about the wizarding world.

"We were just going to grab some dinner," Hermione said, her voice sounding brighter than Ron remembered hearing it in a long while. "Would you two like to join us?"

Most any other time, Ron wouldn't have minded in the least if he had dinner with Luna and Collin. They were certainly entertaining, that was for sure, but he had really been looking forward to a dinner alone with Hermione, even if she hadn't picked up on his subtle suggestion that they make it an actual date.

"That would be so nice," Luna said dreamily.

"I just need to be out of there by 7. I've got to get back to St. Mungo's and see if there's been any progress on my brother."

"St. Mungo's?" Ron finally spoke up, "What's he doing there?"

"Oh I don't think it's any big deal," Collin said dismissively. "He's just had this sort of weird pain for awhile now and decided to get it looked at. I'm sure he's fine."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, suddenly very curious, "How long has he had it?"

Collin shrugged. "Beats me. He only just recently brought it up. So anyway, where did you guys have in mind?"

Hermione looked like she wanted to ask more but decided instead to keep her mouth closed and looked expectantly at Ron.

"Oh, um, anywhere is fine with me."

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Next Up: Ron and Hermione face the big DTR moment... at which point Ron endures much squirming. (DTR is college slang in some circles for Defining The Relationship)

Please Review :-)


	6. The Great Clueless Git

A/N You can all thank WeasleyGirl-ca for the swiftness of this update, as it was her glowing review that gave me the motivation to finish my paper and therefor get this chapter up before the weekend, rather than after as I'd expected. See... good things happen when you review :-) Thank you as well to my other reviewers. I will try to respond to all reviews, but please have patience. Responses to my anon. reviewers are at the end of the chapter, as well as a few extra notes... but for now I'll shut up so you can read.

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Chapter 5- The Great Clueless Git

_She was going to die. That was all Hermione could think of as she lay, magically bound, in a heap on the ground. She could taste the dirt and blood that filled her mouth and was vaguely aware that the blood wasn't stopping; she didn't even know what she had been hit with._

_Hermione coughed violently and twisted her neck as best she could to spit the blood out of her mouth. She was helpless. Her wand was only a few inches away from her face, but there was no way she could get to it. _

_Had it not been so difficult to breathe, Hermione would have laughed. _Petrificus Totalus_, the spell she had used as an 11 year old, was going to be the reason she died. She tried to gauge just how long she'd been laying there, counting down the moments until Ron and Harry were supposed to rendezvous with her. _

_They weren't going to get there in time._

_For the first time, Hermione realized that she _really_ might be about to die. She hadn't really believed it before. She'd been in this situation more times than she could properly remember. _

_This time though, she really was at a loss._

_They weren't coming. Ron and Harry weren't going to save her. They were going to show up to find her lying in the dirt with no blood left in her body. _

_Hermione suddenly felt sick. _

_Footsteps pounded the grass towards her and Hermione closed her eyes. She knew better than to hope it was Ron or Harry. She knew better than to hope that the Order had found them, or even the aurors. She set her jaw and glared at the black boots that had slowed before her. The billowing ends of black fabric had given him away. _

_Death Eaters. They all wore the same fancy and expensive cloak—the arrogant bastards. _

_Hermione braced herself; she would not beg. She couldn't even see who the man was, but she knew she would not beg. _

_The battle noises were growing louder, closer, and she knew that even if whoever this death eater was ignored her, she would still be discovered and killed before Harry and Ron came back for her. It was a fluke she was even still alive right now at all. If her attacker hadn't been distracted, he would have finished her._

"_Shit… shit shit shit!"_

_Hermione's eyes snapped open and she clenched her jaw tighter at the sound of the familiar voice. Loathing filled her entire being, which surprised her. She knew for certain now that death was near. It was hard to breathe. She should be feeling something, _anything_, other than loathing in the moments before her death._

_Hermione gasped in pain as out of nowhere the spell was lifted off of her and two arms were pulling her off the ground. Hermione kept her face blank and fought the urge to cry out in pain as the death eater carried her deeper into the woods, away from the oncoming battle._

_Despite her efforts, Hermione couldn't keep back the tears as the death eater placed her back down on the ground and stood over her, pacing back and forth and cursing vehemently._

_She was never going to see Harry again. She was never going to read _Hogwarts: A History_ again. She was never going to see Ron again. _

_And it was because of _him_. She would almost rather die at the wand of any other death eater. Anyone but _him

_Hermione swallowed her tears and spoke as clearly as she could through her labored breathing._

"_Kill me you bastard," she said steadily, not an ounce of pleading in her voice, "It's your personal mission after all. Sorry I won't be more of a challenge."_

_The death eater suddenly froze and ceased his muttering. He looked down at Hermione and met her gaze, which registered as odd to Hermione as the death eaters rarely went around without their silver masks. _

_Without a word, the death eater bent down next to Hermione and uttered a string of healing spells. They were basic at best, but Hermione no longer tasted blood._

_Hermione stared at the death eater in shock, still unable to move much. The death eater turned away from her gaze and sat down next to her, wand out._

"_How long until they get here?"_

_It took a moment for Hermione to work out who he meant; her head was whirling in confusion. _

"_Twenty minutes."_

_The death eater nodded, and the pair waited in silence for Ron and Harry to arrive. _

11111111111111111111111111

Hermione shuffled as quietly as possible down the hall towards Harry and Ron's flat. She wasn't sure why she always bothered to be stealth about it; it wasn't terribly late. She sighed as she knocked softly on the door before letting herself in, hoping she wouldn't have to wake anyone. She always felt incredibly guilty if Ron was sleeping when she showed up.

When the trio had originally moved into their flats, Hermione had been determined to be grown up about it. She was perfectly capable of spending the night alone in her apartment, completely safe and secure. She had assured herself that if she could just last until Ginny moved in, everything would be just fine.

She had been wrong on both assumptions. It wasn't that Hermione was afraid. The sorting hat had decided to place her in Gryffindor over Ravenclaw for good reason. It was more a matter of… well she really wasn't sure what it was. It didn't happen often, but occasionally Hermione just couldn't be in her room alone. On the nights she simply didn't feel like facing her nightmares, or being alone with her memories, Hermione would go two floors up, let herself in to her best friends' flat, and sit for a few hours, mostly with Ron, and on the odd occasion, with Harry.

"Hello?" she called softly, not wanting to give Ron or Harry reason to stun her (which had happened on occasion. Their reflexes were not to be messed with).

"Hermione?" Ron's voice responded from the kitchen. He emerged moments later clad only in his sleep pants with a glass of water in hand.

Hermione signed to herself and stood, almost a bit awkwardly, in the center of the living room.

"I can go," she told him quickly, "I can tell you're about to go to bed and…"

"Oh don't be silly. Sit. I'll grab some more to drink. Fancy some ribena?"

"Are you sure Ron? It's really…"

"_Hermione_. Sit your bum on that couch."

Hermione had to smile. Ron never asked why she was there. He knew the answer, and she liked to think that had he not been a bloke, and therefore full of idiotic, bloke-ish pride, he would have occasionally found his way down to her flat on the nights he just didn't feel like facing the nightmares.

Ron returned moments later with another glass and poured Hermione some blackcurrant juice. He was relieved he hadn't gone to bed yet; Hermione would have been in for a nasty shock. Finding him and Harry wrestling around on Harry's bed would probably not go over too well, and both Ron and Harry wouldn't be in any position to explain the situation properly. It had been nearly two weeks since the curse had manifested, and Ron was no closer to throwing it off than he had been the very first night.

"Everything ok?"

Hermione nodded and sank back into the couch, trying to ignore how warm it was with Ron right next to her. When had she become such a… such a _girl_?

_Probably when Ron became such a man…Uhg. Shut up Granger and drink your ribena._

"You um…" Ron flicked his eyes up from his glass and at Hermione, "You ok with the trial… and all?"

Hermione stiffened slightly and forced herself to nod once again. She really didn't want to think about that just now. If she was honest though, it had been all she could think about since the stupid ministry owl had arrived.

Ron didn't comment on Hermione's silence and lame attempt at a nod. Instead, he set his glass down and snaked his arm around Hermione's shoulders, pulling her to him. Hermione closed her eyes and relaxed into his shoulder.

It was funny really, when she actually thought about it. Ron got teased mercilessly for being an absolutely horrible communicator when it came to emotions, but as far as Hermione was concerned, communication wasn't all words. In fact, she had read somewhere that something like 80 of communication was nonverbal.

Ron was more like 99.

She had to admit; when Ron had first become physically affectionate it had surprised her. Ron, as noted, was outrageously awkward when it came to talking. He said "um" and "like" and "er" enough times to make you want to shake him. He blushed every spare moment—to the point where Hermione had actually forgotten that his ears weren't naturally pink. He nearly tripped over his own feet when an attractive girl entered the room (despite the fact that at 18 years old he could parry and fight wizards twice his age and come out of it gracefully). His lack of self confidence, regardless of how he behaved around anyone other that Harry and Hermione, affected his coordination and judgment to near immobility at times (case in point: his days as Keeper at Hogwarts).

And yet, he was somehow able to slip his arms around Hermione without even the slightest tremble. He could reach out for her hand and give it a gentle squeeze of reassurance without even pausing to figure out how to get his hand over to hers. He could brush her hair away from her face, fingertips lingering slightly on her cheek bone, without any sign of pink appearing at his ears.

Most miraculously of all, in Hermione's mind, was that Ron was completely and utterly oblivious to all of this. She had figured this out months ago and it had completely baffled her. Harry of all people, had been the one to offer insight to the situation.

"_Ron gets all jittery and awkward when things don't come natural to him—well, except maybe quiditch; he_ is_ a natural at that in some ways, but his nerves get in the way."_

"_Are you saying it's completely natural for him to just… be affectionate?"_

"_With you? Absolutely. Honestly Hermione, it's not _entirely _his fault he's a git. We've just got to accept him for it."_

"What are you smiling about?" Ron asked, eyeing Hermione with an amused expression.

Hermione snapped out of her daze and looked up at Ron, forcing herself not to analyze the emotions behind his eyes too much. It always ended up hurting her head.

"Nothing. Just remembering something," she told him and shifted her weight to get more comfortable. She winced and automatically her hand was pressed against her lower abdomen in an effort to subdue the constant dull pain there.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, holding his arms out and away from her as though he was the one who had caused her the pain.

"Nothing. It's just… it's nothing I promise."

Ron relaxed and put his arms back around Hermione, but didn't look convinced. He decided to let it go for now.

"So, Harry a quiditch player," he said, changing the subject, "Bloody brilliant."

Hermione snickered and tried not to roll her eyes.

"Well I can't say I'm shocked. He wouldn't be caught dead working for the ministry after all."

"Very true," Ron agreed.

The two sat in comfortable silence for awhile and Hermione felt herself getting tired. She let her eyes close and pulled her legs up on the couch as Ron shifted for her, arms still wrapped securely around her.

"Ron," she said softly, "What are we?"

Ron stiffened and Hermione mentally slapped herself. Why on earth had _that _come out of her mouth at _this_ moment? Sure, she and Ron both knew they weren't quite "just friends," but they also weren't anything more than that either. She had been telling herself that just the other day in Diagon Alley and here she was, reminding herself again.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, "I didn't mean…"

"Hermione don't… don't apologize. I… er… I just…"

A thought suddenly struck Hermione. Why _was_ she apologizing? She and Ron had been dancing this dance for years now; she had every right to ask where exactly they stood. She should have asked ages ago, but didn't for Ron's sake. She certainly knew what _she_ wanted, but it was only fair to let Ron figure out what he wanted too. That, and of course there was the minor issue of the war… which was _over_ now.

It was bloody well about time Ron figured it out.

"You know what Ron? Never mind. Just… just keep your hands off me ok?"

Ron's jaw dropped and it only barely registered that Hermione was off the couch and heading for the door.

"Hermione wait! I just… like, I can't just… uh…"

"You just er, um, like, er, um, er, like, um, er, _what_ Ronald?" Hermione spat back acidly.

Ron froze halfway to Hermione, stunned. That had been a low blow, but he supposed he couldn't really blame her for it. He couldn't pretend it didn't sting though.

"What do you want Ron? Hmm? With _this,_ Ron," she said, gesturing between the two of them, "With _us_."

"I… I don't know," Ron replied weakly, unable to meet Hermione's eyes.

Hermione stood there, fighting herself about whether she should just let it go and crawl back to the couch or not. She and Ron had been through too much to really be so juvenile with each other, but at the moment, she really didn't care. And to be honest, she wasn't entirely sure this was so juvenile. This wasn't the same as fighting because she was jealous of Lavender and he was jealous of Krum. This sort of, if she was honest, had to do with the rest of her life. If Ron wasn't _it,_ then she sure as hell needed to spend less time at the flat and more time socializing with other wizards. She hadn't even really thought of this before, and it scared her a little. She knew she was being slightly dramatic, but she was too angry to care much at the moment.

"Right," she huffed, "Well then… well in that case…" and Hermione stormed out of the flat, leaving Ron staring at the door, completely dumbfounded.

Harry stumbled into the living room, blinking and rubbing his eyes before putting his glassed on to find Ron staring transfixed at the door.

"Um, what happened? I heard yelling. You two have a row again?"

Ron blinked over at Harry, his mouth still hanging open.

"I… Harry I think I just blew it. I think I just lost my chance with her forever."

Harry sighed and barely suppressed the desire to roll his eyes.

"Ron, you and Hermione fight all the time. She'll be over it by the morning. Lunch, tops."

Ron sank back to the couch and put his head in his hands.

"You don't understand," he moaned, "She asked what we were Harry."

Harry looked at Ron in surprise. "She did?"

Ron nodded dismally.

"And?" Harry urged, actually intrigued now, forgetting for a moment that had the conversation gone well, Ron would not be sitting on the couch wallowing in self defeat.

"She asked what I wanted… you know… between her and me."

Harry was starting to get impatient.

"_And?_"

"_And_ I don't bloody know Harry! Merlin! I'm a testosterone charged, 20 year old wizard who just got back from defeating a dark lord. How the bloody hell am I supposed to figure out what I want? I mean… I only just figured out last year that girls are good for more than snogging! Oh hell Harry, I'm in it deep now."

Harry just stood in the hall, part of him wishing he was still asleep, but the larger part remembering he was Ron's best mate… and Ron was currently in a state of need. Not that Harry had the slightest idea what he was supposed to do or say to help the situation.

"You aren't 20 for another two days yet," Harry said at last, breaking the silence.

Ron turned his head to face Harry with a look of disgusted incredulity, to which Harry just shrugged.

11111111111111111111

Ron didn't bother going to the girls' flat for breakfast the next morning. He was too exhausted to deal with the awkward tension. He told Harry to go on, and that he was probably going to go visit the twins at Diagon Alley, since he hadn't stopped by to see them earlier. In truth though, he just wanted to get away and think.

Rounding the corner towards the twins' shop, it dawned on Ron that he hadn't managed to think of anything other than kippers and keeper gloves the entire way there. His romantic life was currently hanging in the balance and all he was thinking about were kippers and gloves? No wonder he drove Hermione up a wall.

He was suddenly struck by the realization that in order for your romantic life to be hanging _anywhere_, you sort of had to have one in the first place. When had that happened? When had he and Hermione been anything but friends?

Shaking the voice out of his head that was trying to tell him that Hermione hadn't been just a friend in ages, Ron shoved his way through the crowd of people at the store's window and made his way inside.

"Hey! Ickle Ronnie-kins!"

"Hey George. How're things?"

George took his eyes off the… Ron didn't want to know what they were actually, but George had been shelving them, and he looked up at Ron at the sound of his deadpan voice.

"Obviously a darn sight better than your things," he replied. "What's wrong?"

Ron just shrugged and began unwrapping one of the few pieces of candy he knew to be safe from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and popped it into his mouth.

"That's 5 sickles and a knut baby brother," Fred announced, emerging from the curtain separating the front of the store from the storage room at the back.

Ron rolled his eyes and looked wearily at Fred.

"I always want to ask if you're serious when you do that, but then I remember that there's no point in asking. Bloomin' expensive piece of candy too, don't you think?"

Fred and George just grinned at him.

"Wizarding savior and all that bull aside…"

"…You're still a customer."

"And for the 800th time, I'm also your brother!" Ron told them, arguing more on principle than anything else.

"Actually," Fred said, furrowing his brow in concentration, "I believe that was the 826th time."

"Mmm, definitely the 826th," George agreed, nodding.

"You never make Harry pay," Ron grumbled. "And still won't tell me why. Or maybe today's my lucky day, is it?" he added, feigning hopefulness.

"Never," the twins said in unison.

"Besides," George added, "have you _seen_ our family? That's a whole lot of people to just give things away to."

Ron looked around the crowded shop and then turned back to his brothers.

"I'm pretty sure you'd manage," Ron replied.

Ron shook his head and unwrapped another candy, putting some coins on the counter before Fred could say anything. Fred watched him and then looked at George who shrugged, and then back at Ron.

"So," Fred prompted, "What's the matter?"

Ron looked up to see Fred watching him expectantly.

"Bleedin' hell am I really _that_ easy to read?"

"Yes," they replied, again in unison.

"And _bleedin_?" George added, "You hear that Fred? Ronnie is watching his language! I believe he even said 'bloomin' and minute ago."

Ron just shook his head again. The last people he was going to talk to about his romantic life (seriously, where _had_ that come from?) with, was the twins. Although, one of them _was_ engaged. And the other one _wasn't_ engaged. It would probably provide an interesting spectrum.

Ron snapped himself out of that thought before it even got started. Self disclosure with the twins was never a great idea unless you wanted to get teased mercilessly later.

"Let's see," Fred said suddenly, apparently only addressing George "He's not in school at the moment, so it can't be homework."

"Or quiditch," said George.

"The Harry jealously phase is long over and done with."

"It's not Harry's cooking, since we know Ginny takes care of all that these days."

"So that only leaves…"

"_Hermione._"

Ron winced. He hated when the twins said things in such perfect unity you could barely tell it was two voices.

"Fess up Ron, it's gotta be her," Fred said, leaning on the counter and forcing Ron to look up at him.

"And if it is?" Ron asked tentatively.

"Well that depends," George began, "If it's about serious yuppy stuff, Fred here will handle it. If you've said something thick—well, thicker than usual—and need to backpedal, I'm your man. If it's anything of a physical nature, your best bet would be to floo Charlie…"

"Ok! That's enough thanks." Ron interrupted. "She…" Ron paused and figured he must be mad for telling them this. "She asked me what I wanted… you know, like between me and her."

"Ahhh… DTR," the twins replied knowingly.

Ron just stared at them.

"Huh?"

"DTR," George explained, "Define The Relationship."

"Oh," Ron said, still with a look of confusion on his face.

"Let me guess," Fred said, "You didn't have an answer for her."

"Uh, that would be correct."

"Atta boy!" George cheered.

Fred rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Ron. Ron's brow was wrinkled in confusion still, but now it was at his two brothers. It was very weird indeed to see Fred roll his eyes at anyone, let alone George. The twins not being on the same brain link was just… well it was weird, and Ron had noticed it happening more than once since being back from Horcrux hunting.

"Basically Ron, when you know what you want, it'll hit you in the head so hard, and it'll be so obvious, that you won't be able to figure out why you were so confused about it before," Fred told him.

Ron just stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Huh?"

George laughed, clapped Fred on the back and leaned forward towards Ron.

"I don't get it either," George told him, "I think he's lost his mind really. But then again, he's the one engaged."

Ron just continued to stare at the twins in wonder. Since when did they not understand something about each other? It suddenly dawned on Ron that this was probably why they had been so odd at the dinner all those nights ago, and what Ginny had tried to explain to him. The twins always understood each other. They shared everything, right down to how they felt about things. Fred's feelings for Angelina were something they couldn't share though, and would never be able to.

"Ron?"

"Uh, sorry. What were you saying?"

Fred and George shook their heads.

"Never mind," Fred told him, "You'll figure things out Ron. Just don't say anything too stupid."

George snorted at this and Ron shot him a glare.

"Gee, thanks so much."

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Hermione stared at the ceiling of her bedroom and sighed heavily. If it wasn't the nightmares, it was the memories. If it wasn't the memories, it was the pain. Whatever the reason, sleep never came easily anymore.

She really didn't want to see Ron at the moment. She wasn't mad at him—not _really_ anyway. If she was honest with herself, the real reason she didn't want to see him was because she just didn't want to talk about their relationship. She didn't know if she was ready or willing to hear that he didn't want to _really_ be with her. Nor did she want him to just say he wanted to be with her because he felt guilty.

She knew she was being stubborn. She could package it any way she wanted, but Hermione Granger was quite simply being a proud Gryffindor and refusing to deal with confrontation. Not that confronting Ron had ever been a problem before. They just never really confronted each other about anything that _really_ mattered. That would require actual emotional involvement.

Stubborn pride or not, Hermione wasn't going to be getting much sleep anytime soon. With an annoyed huff, Hermione threw her bedding aside, pulled on her dressing gown, and drug herself toward Harry and Ron's flat.

In hindsight, Hermione could have just woken Ginny up, but she always felt guilty doing that. Ginny, unlike the boys, had to be at work in the morning.

Hermione had already decided that she wasn't going to wake Ron, and headed straight toward Harry's room. Ron would probably be slightly hurt if and when he found out, but that was just too bad. She wanted company, not an emotional showdown.

The trio's female member received neither.

The instant Hermione opened Harry's bedroom door, Ron Weasley's screams filled the hallway, reverberating off the walls and ringing in her ears. Harry's head snapped toward the door and took in Hermione's shocked expression. Her blood ran cold and she felt her knees weaken as she gripped the door handle for support.

"Hermione… get…get out," Ron gasped before writhing backwards and growling into his clenched teeth.

Harry was instantly gripping the red head's shoulders, forcing him to look at him as Ron continued to struggle against Harry's hold. Hermione gasped and in moments was at Harry's side.

"What are you doing?! Get off of him!"

"Hermione," Harry said firmly, his tone slow and deliberate, "_please_ get out. We'll explain in the morning; and for Merlin's sake put the silencing charm back up so he can writhe in anguish without worrying about waking the bloody neighbors!"

Harry said all of this without taking his eyes from Ron's. The only reason Hermione even acknowledged that Harry was speaking was because she knew that tone. It was the same tone Harry subconsciously used when they were waist deep in death eater duels and he went into leader mode; Hermione instinctively knew not to argue. She walked numbly back to the door, her eyes never leaving Ron's trembling form.

Ron looked desperately from Harry to Hermione and Harry nodded in understanding.

"Outside Hermione. Wait outside."

Hermione starred at Harry in disbelief but was distracted as Ron began to fight harder against Harry's hold and a strangled cry escaped the red head's lips.

"Ron…" Hermione began, but was cut off by Harry once again.

"_Outside_, Hermione!" Harry grunted and shifted his position so that Ron was in more of a headlock.

Had she not been so terrified, Hermione would have found the scene amusing. As it was, there was nothing in the world less entertaining at the moment. Hermione didn't even know what to _say_, never mind what to _do_. She was utterly indignant about being told to just leave like nothing was going on, but she didn't know what other option she had.

"He's ok Hermione. I promise you; he's ok. Wait outside… _please_."

Hermione left the room, putting the silencing charm back up as she did. Trembling, she slid down the wall opposite Harry's door, and waited. She had no idea how long she sat there fuming but too worried to actually scream at her two best friends just yet. They had better have a spectacular explanation.

When at long last the door finally opened and Harry stepped out, Hermione nearly exploded. She was silenced by Harry's pleading look as he sank down across from her.

"I'm sorry Hermione. Don't be mad."

Hermione just stared at her friend, her jaw set.

"He… it's hard for blokes, ya know? We don't like looking all… you know… in front of people, especially girls."

Hermione inhaled sharply in indignation, and Harry lowered his eyes from hers.

"Don't make me keep apologizing. I _know_ it's you and you've seen us worse. I _know_ we should have told you. But we didn't. We're idiots. We know."

"What's _wrong_ with him Harry?" Hermione replied, Ron's current health more important than her anger at the moment.

Harry let out a sigh and began rubbing his temples.

"_Insomnioto_ curse… heard of it?"

Hermione's brow furrowed for a moment before her eyebrows shot up in recognition.

"Night torture curse? No counter-curse; just throw the ruddy thing off? _That_ _insomnioto_ curse?"

Harry nodded dismally and met Hermione's eyes once again, determining it was safe to do so for the time being.

"How long?" Hermione asked, struggling to keep her voice controlled.

"Couple weeks."

Hermione inhaled sharply again and narrowed her eyes at Harry.

"Planning on letting me know before or after he became completely unable to function?"

"Huh?"

Hermione shook her head and continued to scowl at Harry.

"You can't just keep letting it go like this. What does he get, an hour or two of sleep a night? He'll get sick. Without rest, your body can't fight sickness and infection; if your body can't fight it, you can't get better. He'll just get sicker and sicker. He won't be able to do anything other than lay in bed, unable to sleep and in excruciating pain. Merlin Harry! How long did you think you were going to keep this up for?"

Harry just stared at her, unable to answer. He hadn't thought about any of that. Leave it to Hermione to see the whole picture rather than just the snapshot. All Harry and Ron had been concerned with was getting through another night.

"I'll see what kind of research I can do on the matter; for now, you get to sleep. I'll deal with Ronald later. I'll go into work with Ginny to use the Ministry Library…"

"Hermione…"

"She'll want to know how to help too. We'll have to start a rotation of staying up with him; you can't keep staying awake all night either you know, that won't help matters any…"

"_Hermione…_"

Hermione stopped her diatribe and looked up at Harry, her eyes betraying her confident, authoritative tone.

"He's going to be ok."

Hermione nodded mutely, a lump of tears forming in the back of her throat. Clueless git or not, she was tired of watching her best friends suffer.

Harry shuffled to the other side of the hall and put his arm gently around Hermione as she fought to keep her composure.

"Why don't you try and sleep. You and Ron can work things out in a few hours when it's time to get up and all of that. I'm sure you guys can work it out; you always do."

On the other side of the door, Ron sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. He had feigned sleep so that Harry would leave and face Hermione first. It was cowardly, yes, but he needed a few minutes to think. He had thought the idea of Hermione seeing him in that position hours before—seeing him so vulnerable, was the most horrifying idea ever.

So, it came as a bit of a shock to him when the pain finally eased and he realized that, while it wasn't his first choice to have Hermione see him in that state, he really didn't mind. He almost wanted to talk to her about it—to let her know what he going through with this whole stupid curse.

Fred's voice suddenly rang through his ears and he cringed at the realization that Fred Weasley, of all people, was the voice of reason inside Ron's head.

Before Hermione could respond to Harry's comment about Ron and her working things out, Harry's door opened and a very disheveled looking Ron appeared. He stood awkwardly in front of his two best friends for a moment, biting his lower lip anxiously.

"Can you give us a minute Harry?"

"You should really be sleeping Ron. You…"

"It'll just be a minute," Ron cut him off; "I can't sleep till I do this anyway."

Harry sighed and stood up. He sent a warning glance to Ron and headed back into his room closing the door and leaving Ron and Hermione in the hallway. Ron just stood there for a moment while Hermione looked up at him, her expression unreadable.

"How angry are you?" Ron asked finally.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. "Not mad enough to yell at you right _now_. But pretty mad."

"That's fair," Ron said, mostly to himself.

Before Hermione realized what was happening, Ron had dropped to all fours in front of her. With only a moments hesitation, he brought his lips to Hermione's, snaking his fingers into her hair and pulling her deep into the kiss with him.

Hermione's eyes shot open in surprise, but quickly shut again as Ron pulled himself up closer to her and wrapped his free arm around her waist, never breaking his lips away from hers as he pulled her body against his.

Ron was actually glad, for the first time since 6th year, that he had kissed Lavender. If he hadn't, he might not have realized just how utterly fantastic kissing Hermione was.He'd always been overly concerned with things like where to put his hands and whether or not he was doing things right to really take in what it was like to completely lose yourself in someone. He had never been able to kiss Lavender like... like _this._

Then again, he hadn't had the same feelings for Lavender Brown as he did for Hermione Granger. He was a complete idiot for not working that one out sooner.

When at long last oxygen became far too scarce, they broke apart, both subtly panting and Hermione wide eyed and shivering. Ron collapsed on the floor of the hallway, far too exhausted to keep sitting up. He gently pulled on Hermione's wrist, indicating for her to join him on the carpet.

"I'm shit with words Hermione. But you deserve to hear them. A girl like you… deserves to be told straight out just how much she's worth."

Hermione stared at Ron, her mind whirling. Wasn't she angry with him? Wasn't he a prat who couldn't figure out how to define their relationship? Wasn't he the git that constantly played with her emotions, whether consciously or not?

…Wasn't he the handsome young man who had just given her an earth shattering kiss despite the fact he was completely and utterly exhausted?

In that moment, Hermione decided that she very much liked the 'take charge' side of Ronald Weasley.

"Hermione… it's you; it's always been you. I want to be with you… if you'll have me… the great clueless git that I am…"

Hermione could hardly breathe. Rather than speak, Hermione snuggled into Ron and kissed his cheek gently, giving him all the answer he needed.

"You're still going to yell at me when we wake up for not telling you about the curse, aren't you?"

Hermione nodded, and in minutes the couple fell asleep in the middle of the hallway.

* * *

A/N: Ooook... so that didn't end up _anything_ like I originally wrote it, but hopefully it was ok. Don't worry, the drama never ends with those two so it's not like everything will be all wonderful for very long. I'm kinda nervous that the Ron/Hermione relationship got a little rushed in this chapter... but things were beginning to drag and I needed the two blockheads (I say that with much love and affection; I love Ron and Hermione dearly) to hook up already so we can get "on with the show" so to speak. Let me know what your thoughts are.

Anon. Review Responses:

Mel- I can't thank you enough for the dedicated response to this fic :-) You get special appreciation for being the first reviewer of this fic. I'm glad to hear that the night curse is original... it's hard to come up with something new with the thousands of fics floating around. As for the flashbacks- they aren't necessarily related to the plot. They're mostly just to reveal bits and peices of the war, without actually writing a fic about the war lol. They're there to show some of the things the trio went through, as well as show some of the relational developments between some of the characters. (Lupin and Harry and Bill and Ron for example in the last flashback). I hope the DTR moment was worth the anticipation... thanks for reviewing.

ohju- Yay for healer Ron fans! And have no fear, this story will be stocked with plenty of Ron angst. Like Hermione said, he's only going to get worse.

Owlfactory- Glad to hear it's refreshing... I take it as a high compliment since it's hard to come by.


	7. Weasley Is Our King

**Chapter 6: Weasley Is Our King**

_Harry grimaced as he wiped his hand over his mouth and then spit again, trying to get the taste of vomit out of his mouth. Not that it mattered. The whole cell stank of the stuff; he'd be tasting it for as long as he was here. It must be some strange and unwritten rule that to be a death eater you had to have a dungeon in your home. Or at least if you were a rich death eater. He was fairly certain they were at the Goyle's._

_They. Harry wasn't even sure if _they_ were even all in the same place. He had been knocked out at a battle, and now he was here. His guess was that it had been two days, but he couldn't be sure. He really didn't know what the bloody hell they were waiting for. He was the death eater's number one target after all._

_Harry squinted as the door to the cell room opened, creaking eerily and flooding light into the dim room. _

"_We have a guest for you today Potter!" came the excited voice of a death eater Harry didn't recognize._

_Harry squinted again, having trouble making out who it was with the light and without his glasses. He didn't know what had happened to them._

"_You might be needing these," an icy voice trickled into Harry's ears._

_Harry instantly went cold and for a moment he thought he'd be sick again as Bellatrix Lestrange loomed at the wall of bars that imprisoned Harry. She extended her arm through the bars and held out Harry's glasses to him. _

"_Take them Potter," Bellatrix barked._

_Harry complied out of sheer desire to see what was happening. He hastily snatched them out of Lestrange's hand and pressed them firmly on his nose. He looked around wearily and felt his stomach drop at what was before him. _

_Standing between Lestrange and the unfamiliar death eater was Ron, his head bowed low and his wrists and ankles shackled. _

"_Ron?" Harry managed, trying to get his best friend to look at him, "Ron!?"_

_Ron didn't look up. He simply kept his head bowed and it looked to Harry like he was shivering. Lestrange laughed, a strangled, shrill noise that worked its way out of her throat like a cackle—like she wasn't actually sure she knew how to laugh genuinely. Harry felt his chest tighten at the noise as he looked from Ron to Bellatrix, her eyes gleaming with excitement._

_Without a word, the female death eater flicked her wand and Harry was forced to the front of his cell, his neck craned towards where Ron was standing._

"_Wouldn't want you to have a bad view," Lestrange told him, the coldness in her voice emanating throughout Harry's entire body. _

_Harry stared up at her in horror as Lestrange stepped back and turned to face Ron._

"Crucio!"

_Harry gasped as Ron instantly hit the floor, his screams echoing throughout the dungeon and piecing through Harry as though his lungs were being punctured. Harry grit his teeth and waited for Lestrange to lift the curse. He waited… and waited._

_Bellatrix wasn't relenting. She was smirking down her wand at Ron's writhing form, showing no signs of lifting the curse anytime soon. Harry was beginning to panic. He had never seen anyone hold the cruciatus this long._

"_Stop! You foul creature; lift it! Lift the curse!"_

_Lestrange's smirk curled into a grin as she slowly turned her head towards Harry and calmly flicked her wand. Ron's screams died out and he curled into a fetal position, his body still convulsing._

"_What's the matter Potter? You dragged him into this. If it wasn't for you, Weasley would be safe and warm in his bed."_

_Harry lunged at the bars of his cell, rage clouding all rational thoughts. It was useless—but he didn't care; he continued to strain at the bars._

_Bellatrix let out a shrill laugh and took aim at Ron once again, bellowing the curse. Ron's screams instantly blended in with Harry's desperate and enraged attempts at breaking free._

_Harry had no idea how long it went on, but eventually Ron was no longer screaming. Harry's voice was hoarse and he hadn't even noticed the tears that were streaking his face. His palms were bloody from his attempts to rip the bars out of the floor. It registered somewhere in the back of Harry's panicky mind that if he didn't do something now, he was going to watch Ron die. _

"_Take me! Kill me instead of him! Let Voldermort have me… just… just let him go!"_

_Bellatrix smirked at Harry, her pale grey eyes gleaming. Harry felt the words dry up in his already hoarse throat. He hadn't even realized how much he'd been screaming along with Ron._

"_Did you know, Potter," Bellatrix said softly, "that the cruciatus won't kill someone? No, no. However, more than 30 minutes under the most powerful torture curse in the world will usually drive you to insanity, and there's no telling what you'll do to escape the pain when all rational thought leaves your mind."_

_Harry stared in horror as Bellatrix flicked her wand once again. Ron didn't scream. His body simply shuddered and writhed with the waves of pain. Harry sank to the floor of his cell, his eyes wide and full of tears as his best friend was tortured to insanity before his very eyes. The helplessness was overwhelming._

_When Bellatrix finally released the curse, she glided determinedly towards Harry. Harry numbly starred up at her, feeling utterly shattered._

"_You will never forget this day Potter," Lestrange whispered icily, "You will always remember the sight of your best friend, dead before your very eyes. And you will always know that you did nothing to stop it."_

_Lestrange kept her eyes on Harry and without even a glance towards Ron, flicked her wand at the red head's cowering body and hissed the killing curse in Harry's ear._

"_Avada Kadavra."_

_Ron's body instantly went rigid, and Harry's eyes went out of focus as he tried to turn his emotions off—tried to make himself numb._

_The two death eaters left the room without another word, leaving Harry in silent heap on the cell floor, staring at the body of his best friend. _

_Harry didn't move. Even when Ron's body began to change and morph into Wormtail's features, Harry remained firmly grounded to the cell floor. He didn't know how long he sat there. It could have been years for all he knew._

_When Hermione and Ron appeared later on to rescue their friend, they found Harry in silent tears, transfixed by the body of Peter Petigrew. Hermione instantly put two and two together and rushed forward, hissing the word polyjuice in Ron's ear. Ron furrowed his brow and ran a hand through his hair, trying to work out what Hermione meant, when his hand grazed the dried blood surrounding the bald spot at the back of his head. The death eaters had ripped out a chunk of his hair at some point during the battle. Comprehension dawned on Ron and he slowly made his way towards Harry._

"_Harry mate, I'm still alive. It's me, I promise. Here… I rescued you from the Dursley's second year in a flying car. I drank a love potion from Romilda Vane in sixth year. It's me Harry, I'm right here. It was a trick Harry—polyjuice."_

_Harry looked up at Ron, still having trouble feeling. He was shaking at the sight of Ron, and wanted so desperately to believe it was him._

"_Come on Harry," Hermione said gently, "Let's get you out of here. We haven't got much time."_

111111111111111111111111111111

"Oi! Get on up you two. What are you lot doing in the hallway anyway?"

Ron groaned and blinked blearily at the sound of Ginny's voice. He rolled over stubbornly, only to wind up face to face with an equally bleary eyed Harry. Both boys jumped up, startled, and scrambled to their feet.

Ginny rolled her eyes as her brother and her friend shifted awkwardly in the center of the hall. She really had no desire to know why the entire trio was asleep in the hallway. Hermione was already awake and pacing the living room anxiously.

Harry had come back out of his room only minutes after Ron and Hermione had fallen asleep. He wasn't about to let Ron stay up yakking to Hermione for the brief hour or so of sleeping time he got in a night. When he had found the pair of them asleep in the hall, he'd just collapsed right next to them, too tired to care where he slept and much preferring the floor anyhow.

"_Anyway,_" Ginny said determinedly, "Sorry to wake you, but there's a rather large crowd of owls at the breakfast table for one; two: I wanted to give Ron his birthday present before I had to leave for work."

Ron blinked at his sister and tried to register everything she had just said. He was still shaken up from his abrupt wake up call and hadn't quite started thinking clearly yet.

"Oh yeah, happy birthday mate," Harry said, stifling a yawn. "Your present is in my room."

"Oh," Ron said, earning another eye roll from his sister.

"You didn't seriously forget it was your birthday did you? That's so unlike you I don't think I can stand it."

"No, I knew, trust me. I just wasn't even sure who I was for a minute there, never mind what day."

"Yeesh Ron, you really are a right mess when you first wake up."

"Your right about that," Harry laughed. "You should have seen him in the dormitories at school. He'd be in a complete state of confusion for a good 20 minutes."

"Explains why you were always trying to do your tie in the halls," Ginny smirked.

"Guys!" Ron sighed exasperatedly, "It's my birthday!"

"Sorry. Go get your breakfast and open some of your cards so those bleedin birds will get out of here."

Ginny turned around and headed into the kitchen. She stopped at the doorway and spun back around, a huge grin on her face.

"By the way, we're going out tonight. Seamus is throwing you a shin-dig at his pub."

Ron and Harry both dropped their jaws and Ginny grinned triumphantly at them before disappearing into the kitchen.

"I should've guessed," Ron sighed.

"Never mind that now," Hermione said sharply, coming back into the hall. "I _believe_ you two have some things you need to discuss with Ginny."

Harry sighed and looked over at Ron.

"Come on mate; maybe she'll go easy on you since it's your birthday."

Ron just snorted and shook his head. "Yeah… right."

11111111111111111111111

Ginny's reaction to Ron's news that he had been suffering some sort of dark curse night after night had gone over as well as they'd expected—meaning not well at all. Ginny had been livid. After at least a half hour of yelling, supplemented by Hermione whenever Ginny ran out of breath, they'd finally been able to discuss and work out what they were going to do next. They would take it in turns staying up at night with Ron (which both Harry and Ron were skeptical about considering what worked at the moment was Harry wrestling Ron down every night. They doubted Hermione and Ginny would be able to pull this off but they said they would come up with something, and Ron and Harry had no desire to argue).

Hermione was going to use the ministry library to see what she could find out about the curse, as well as do some fact finding at St. Mungo's. The truth of the matter was that Ron would eventually get sick, and when that happened, there wasn't going to be much he could do to function. Harry could have kicked himself for not realizing this sooner.

By the time Ron's birthday breakfast was over however, the angry mood lifted slightly in an effort not to spoil the entire day. Ron wasn't sick yet, and no good was going to come from worrying themselves mad.

After breakfast, Ron asked Hermione to join him while he visited his parents for a couple hours. Both Harry and Ginny caught the muttered whisper Ron gave Hermione about also being able to discuss things a bit more properly—whatever that meant, though both thought they had a pretty good idea.

At long last, it was Harry and Ginny alone in the flat. It had been days since they had been in a room alone together. They both sort of tried to avoid being alone. It was just less complicated that way.

Harry would have liked to say that he had been thinking about his relationship with Ginny, and had come up with a conclusion. The sad truth was that although he had indeed done a lot of thinking about… well about Ginny at least, maybe not his relationship with her… and he had come up with absolutely nothing.

Ginny sat quietly on the couch, gauging whether or not it was going to be awkward if she stayed. She turned to look at Harry, who immediately looked away, not wanting to be caught staring at her… _again_.

"Ginny," Harry said suddenly, still not looking at her, "Can I ask you something?"

Ginny had to force herself not to sigh. She knew that tone in Harry better than anyone, and she knew it meant she was probably going to have to argue with him about his self worth. It wasn't uncommon with Harry. She had learned that even with the prophecy, and Voldermort, and the truth about who and what Harry was, Harry's upbringing and life before he turned 11 had scarred him, and all the fame and praise of the world wasn't going to heal him. Harry had missed out on love from parents and family at a time when it was the most crucial, and there was nothing that could help him overcome that overnight. Harry being as 'normal' as he was actually baffled Ginny to some extent. Trouble was, she didn't really think that _Harry_ knew all of this.

"Of course you can Harry," she said honestly.

Harry stayed quiet for a moment and Ginny wondered if he was going to backpedal, and if she was going to let him if he tried.

"I was… I was wondering how you felt… about me I mean. A lot changes in 2 years and I just... I mean I realize time doesn't just stop."

Ginny blinked in surprise. She had expected a vulnerable question, but not one quite that direct. On top of that, the question focused more on her than she really would have liked. Part of her wanted to pour the truth about the last 2 years to Harry, but she knew that wasn't the best option at a moment like this.

"I'm not sure how to answer that Harry."

Harry finally looked over at Ginny, who met his eyes without fear or embarrassment. He was always impressed with how completely unashamed she was of how she felt or sounded most of the time. When she was ready to say something, she meant it and didn't seem to care what anyone thought of her for it. Maybe that was one of the things Harry found so appealing about her. He hadn't known much about being passionate before Hogwarts, and every one of the Weasley's seemed to be stocked full of the stuff.

"Why not?" Harry asked, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

"Harry," Ginny said slowly, "I don't want how I feel about _you_ to influence how you feel about _me_. I don't want a response that you only give me out of obligation. I know better than anyone else how hard it is for you to really be honest with people, and I don't want to manipulate that knowledge."

Harry swallowed hard. Ginny did indeed know how he worked emotionally better than most people. She was insightful that way, and even though Ron and Hermione had inklings and insights into his world as well, it was Ginny who he had actually been able to openly discuss them with, and it was Ginny who had him pegged. He had come a long way due to Ron and Hermione doing their best to assure him they wouldn't abandon him just for how he felt, but at the end of the day it was still Ginny who could see through him in a way that was so different from Ron and Hermione. Harry hated and loved it.

"Ginny, there's still something here, between us I mean, and there's this huge part of me that _wants_ to do something about it. But I don't know if I'll ever be able to… to _love _you… to love anyone for that matter! And that's what you deserve. You don't deserve some mixed up bloke who can't even figure out if he's capable of loving a girl… woman. I can't help it."

Ginny's eyes narrowed and she stood up from the couch, snapping her face towards Harry sharply. Harry suddenly felt very small as she gazed down at him, her expression unreadable and controlled.

"Yes Harry, you bloody well _can_ help it. I refuse to let you get away with that cowardly, half assed, response. You're a Gryffindor for Merlin's sake! Grow some balls already! Your moping habits and 'woe is me' attitude may fly with everyone else Harry, but you should know by now that it has never, and will never, fly with _me_."

Harry looked up at her, startled. Had it not been for the foul language, he could swear it was Mrs. Weasley standing in front of him. Ginny's posture and voice certainly resembled her mother more at this moment than Harry had ever really noticed before. And where is Merlin's name had she ever learned the expression, 'grow some balls'?

Ginny bent down so that she was inches from Harry's face. He shuddered involuntarily, whether it was because he hadn't been this close to a female in so long (with the exception of Hermione, which didn't count in his mind), or because he was actually a little frightened, he couldn't be sure.

"Harry Potter, I am not a patient woman. I never have been. So when you went off to save the world, no one expected me to sit around and _wait_ for you. _You_ didn't expect me to sit around and wait for you. _I _didn't expect to sit around and wait for you. But here I am, more than two damn years later, _still_ waiting!"

Ginny paused and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, calming herself. She would not allow herself to feel guilty for telling Harry any of this. She didn't want his self hatred to win, and if that meant slamming him with the truth, so be it. This was it as far as she was concerned. It was time she revealed some things to Mr. Angst. She knelt down in front of an utterly stupefied Harry, and took his hands in her own and rested them on Harry's knees, doing her best to keep calm.

"I can't make your past go away Harry. I can't take away all of that pain you have buried away in that crazy head of yours. _No one_ can do that for you Harry, no matter how much we want to be able to. The only thing any of us can do, the thing we've all been_ trying_ to do for years now, is stand by your side and prove to you that the past is the _past_. You just can't seem to make it easy on us can you? We can't possibly do anything else to prove to you we won't abandon you. We are not the Dursleys Harry."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. The Dursleys? What did they have to do with any of this? Harry sat there, wracking his brain to understand what had made Ginny bring _them_ up.

"Ron and Hermione would have _died_ for you Harry. Not for the wizarding world Harry; for _you_. I would have gone with you if you'd only have let me! It was never about Voldermort for us you great prat. It was about saving _you_."

Harry starred at Ginny, thunderstruck to his absolute core. It had hit him. He'd always recognized that he was one of those angsty kids with a truly horrid self image. He'd been that kid for years and essentially had just gotten used to it. He'd just blamed it on his parents' death— on Voldermort.

But he had to wonder, for the first time, what if he'd been taken in by Sirius who would have loved him like a son? Or by Remus? Or even Hagrid?

Maybe that's why none of his baggage had disappeared when Voldermort had been destroyed. Maybe that's why he still lived with a paralyzing fear, an expectation almost, that his friends were going to back out at the last minute.

Maybe it had never had anything to do with Voldermort at all.

Harry wanted to tell all of this to Ginny. He wanted her to know just how much truth was in everything she had just told him—that he understood now, that he could try to figure things out now that he had this new insight. He opened his mouth to tell Ginny, but his voice caught in his throat and he didn't trust himself to speak. He suddenly felt completely overwhelmed.

It suddenly dawned on him that Ginny probably already knew that it had never been about Voldermort with Harry. She would never tell him that out right. What would be the point? He never would have believed a statement like that unless he had come to figure it out for himself.

Ginny released Harry's hands and stood up, sweeping her lips across his forehead as she did. Smiling softly at him, she turned to leave the room. She figured he probably wouldn't want her to be in the room at the moment. She could not possibly have known all that had just happened inside Harry's head in the last few moments. It seemed every time they were in a room alone together, they managed to pull up all kinds of emotional dregs and she couldn't say she blamed Harry for avoiding being one on one with her.

She was halfway to the doorway when Harry's voice softly called her name. She paused but didn't turn around.

"Yes?"

"Would you maybe want to go with me to Seamus' pub tonight? I mean, I know we're apparating there together and all, but, maybe we could go _together_? Nothing serious or anything like that. Just a boy and a girl, going to a party together?"

Ginny felt like her heart was trying to make its way out of her throat. That was the last thing she expected to come out of Harry Potter's mouth. She wished she hadn't walked away so quickly— wished she had waited for him to find his voice so they could talk about things some more—but it would have to wait for another time. Perhaps the next time they were alone in a room, they could discuss things further, but for now, the wizarding world's savior had just asked her on a date.

"I think that would be nice actually," she said, twisting around to look at him. "Shockingly normal of us."

Harry smiled and Ginny smirked playfully back at him before continuing out of the flat and downstairs to her own.

111111111111111111111111

"I can't believe this," Ron muttered, shaking his head as he strolled through Hogmeade, his fingers interlaced with Hermione's.

"Oh pipe down, it's going to be fun," Hermione responded, surprising Ron slightly.

Ron looked down at his new girlfriend and raised an eyebrow. Fred had been dead on. _"When you know what you want, it'll hit you in the head so hard, and it'll be so obvious, that you won't be able to figure out why you were so confused about it before."_

For once, Ron was glad that Fred was right about something.

"What?" Hermione asked innocently, a huge false grin on her face. "I'm practicing positive thinking."

Ginny snorted and looked over at Harry who was shaking his head.

"You guys," Ginny said exasperatedly, "it's a party for goodness sakes! It really isn't going to kill you!"

"We know!" Ron, Hermione, and Harry all said in unison.

Ginny just rolled her eyes again and quickened her pace so that she was ahead of her friends. They arrived in front of what used to be the Hog's Head and, with the exception of Ginny, let out a gasp of surprise. It looked nothing like it once had. It was now as bright and welcoming as the Three Broomsticks. Seamus Finnigan had bought the old pub and renovated it after he left Hogwarts and had been rather successful in running the place.

Ginny waited for Harry to catch up with her, and strode confidently into the pub, Harry in her wake.

The noise that greeted them was heard halfway down the road as dozens of familiar faces called out to Ginny and Harry in greeting, and then again when Hermione and Ron entered. Ginny, it seemed, had kept up correspondence with half of Hogwarts. Harry had forgotten just how popular she was.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione!" Seamus came bounding towards them from behind the bar, dropping two shot glasses down in front of Dean and a girl Harry didn't recognize as he went.

The trio exchanged their hellos with Seamus who was already chattering on about the pub and its first year of business.

"Been booming since Christmas, after you did away with you-know-who, but let's leave him out of this shall we? I'm sick of hearing about him so I can only imagine how you three feel about it."

Ron, Hermione, and Harry nodded appreciatively and made their way to the bar to greet Dean.

"Drinks?" Seamus asked from behind the bar.

"Just a butterbeer for me thanks," Harry answered, "And whatever Ginny's having is on me. Not that she seems to be interested in ordering anything," he added, noting that Ginny was already enthralled in conversation with a booth of old Hogwarts students that Harry recognized only vaguely.

"Yeah, butterbeer for Hermione, and I'll take a firewhiskey, both on mine Seamus. Cheers."

"Shandy for me actually Seamus. Muggle style," Hermione corrected her order, grinning at Ron's puzzled expression.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Ron and glanced back and forth between him and Hermione.

"You two finally get your act together then?" He asked, smirking.

Before Ron or Hermione could answer, Harry started to laugh and leaned forward so that he could see Dean properly.

"Only as of yesterday! I was beginning to think I'd have to do it for them… write one of those 'check yes or no' letters or something."

"Oh shut up Harry," Ron said, but laughed along with Dean and Seamus anyway.

"You're sure you don't want anything stronger than a butterbeer Harry? My water to rum charm has improved considerably since first year," Seamus asked.

Harry just shook his head and grinned at the memory of Seamus blowing up goblet after goblet in an attempt to turn its contents to rum.

"I'd certainly _hope_ it's improved since then. I'll have one for the sake of your ego but that'll be it. I really can't stand alcohol to be honest."

"Don't tell him that Harry, he might think you've lost your mind."

Harry spun around on his bar stool to find Neville grinning behind him.

"Honestly, I said I could only stand to knock back one firewhiskey in a lifetime and he about went through the roof," Neville went on, taking a seat at the bar with his fellow Gryffindors, "Thinks the stuff is wizardkind's greatest creation."

"Sounds about right for Seamus I'd say," Ron stated.

"I'll never understand why men get so defensive about ridiculous things like alcohol and quiditch," the brunette Dean had been sitting with told Hermione under her breath.

Hermione laughed and put out her hand to the girl while wondering where Dean had met her.

"Hermione Granger," she introduced herself, "It's nice to meet someone else who has a healthy misunderstanding of the male mind."

The brunette laughed and took Hermione's hand. "Jenine Aruel. Let's go join some of the other girls shall we?"

Hermione nodded and followed Jenine to the booth where Ginny and several other girls, including the Patil twins, were seated.

The old friends continued to catch up for over an hour, rotating tables and exchanging updates with the trio, who many of the guests hadn't seen in ages other than on the front page of the Prophet. Ron caught Harry's eye and the two of them knew instinctively that they should have done this ages ago. Ginny had been right; this was actually _fun_. No one seemed at all interested in discussing Voldermort or death eaters or anything of the sort. They were regarded just as they always had been back at school, and it was blissful.

"I absolutely can't believe you're going to be playing for Puddlemere Harry, that's bloody brilliant mate."

Harry shrugged at Dean and began to glance around the room. "That reminds me," he said, still searching the pub, "I need to find Luna and tell her the Quibbler can have the exclusive. Pisses the hell out of the Prophet when we do that."

"She's not here unfortunately," Seamus told him amidst the laughter, "You know she's dating Collin Creevey? His brother is at St. Mungo's waiting on some test results. Luna's with him there."

"Still?" Ron asked. He and Hermione had told Harry about their run in with Luna and Collin, but they hadn't thought to check up with them regarding Dennis.

"Yeah. It's a bit weird. They didn't think it was any big deal, but now he's had to go through all these tests and what not. I don't know many details; apparently it's a bit of a personal matter. Maybe you can tell us all about it once you start the Healer program, eh Ron?"

"Oh shove off," Ron smirked, pushing Seamus' arm off of him. "I haven't…"

"Shaaaay-Moooose!"

Ron stopped mid-sentence and stared at Seamus, as did everyone else at the bar. His face was a priceless look of exasperation as he pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something to himself.

"Seamus, was that… is that…" Ron began, but didn't need to finish as Lavender Brown came bounding towards the bar.

"Shay-Moose! Could you pretty please make me another drink?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at Seamus with a tipsy grin on her face.

"Alright Lavender, who let you have too many?" Seamus demanded, ignoring the snickering from his former roommates.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Lavender, I'm serious. You being drunk is positively horrendous, and you hung over is even worse. Now who let you have more drinks?"

Lavender smiled sweetly and pointed to the table of girls where Hermione was seated. Hermione looked over at them and waved, a triumphant grin across her face. She winked ever so slightly in Ron's direction and then turned her attention back to Jenine who she seemed to be rather deep in conversation with.

Every one of the young men at the bar had their jaws on the ground. They turned around slowly to look at Ron, whose eyes were about as large as dinner plates.

"I… I didn't know she had it in her!" he managed to exclaim.

Harry was finally able to close his mouth and turned his attention to the drunken Lavender, who had gone around the bar and was trying to tickle Seamus. He was trying in vain to get her to stop and to go sit down somewhere, but she merely responded by pouting and calling him Shay-Moose again. Harry looked back at Dean, Ron, and Neville, and the four of them broke into hysterics.

"This isn't funny! You guys have no idea what she's like when she's drunk! It's a nightmare!" Seamus yelled at them, now trying to stop Lavender from reaching for the beer tap.

"We can _see_ what she's like drunk mate. Good luck with that." Dean offered, earning a glare from his friend.

Seamus finally managed to get Lavender settled down and relatively harmless to her social status and returned to his friends, who were still trying to smother their smirks.

"So," Ron said, "You and Lavender huh?"

"Yeah," Seamus answered, "She's only like that when she's drunk though I swear. When she's had enough, I tell her and she stops. Apparently Hermione is persuasive."

"Sure," Ron replied skeptically, grinning at Seamus' flushed expression.

"Anyway," Dean interjected, "As it's your birthday Ron… Oi! Can I have everyone's attention?!" he called, raising his glass in midair and waiting for the room to settle down. "I say we have a toast to Ron, the only Gryffindor prefect I know of who spent the evenings snogging on every available surface of the common room."

"Oh for goodness sakes," Ron muttered, putting his head in his hand and feeling his ears begin to burn.

"Here, here!" Neville called, "A toast to the man who provided us with unwanted homework distractions by screaming his head off at the girl he fancied all the time!"

The room filled with laughter and Ron shook his head at Neville in surprise.

"Nice to know he finally got a clue!" someone called.

"Aww, you mean you and Harry aren't involved after all? That's so disappointing." Dean pouted. "We've had a pool going on that one for years!"

Harry laughed and jumped up from his seat. "Whatever do you mean!? He's all mine!" The room was filled with catcalls and wolf whistles as Harry threw his arms around Ron, who faked a gag and shoved Harry off of him, laughing along with the rest of the room.

"To the loudest snoring Gryffindor!" Seamus yelled above the laughter.

"To the _luckiest_ damn keeper Gryffindor ever had! Weasley is our king!"

"To the most appalling divination student in our year," called Parvati, glass raised high.

"Hey now!" Harry called back to her, "That award goes to _me_!"

"Alright, alright!" Seamus yelled over the laughter, "Seriously, to one of the best mates I know… although if your girlfriend gets my girlfriend drunk again I'll hurt you severely, savior of the wizarding world be damned, I'll still hex you…"

"Get on with it!"

"Right… to Ron Weasley! Weasley is our king!"

* * *

**A/N: So seriously, I'm absolutely thrilled that chapter 5 recieved nearly 90 hits... I figure you must be reading the story if you get all the way to the most recent chapter... but I must say I'm a little disheartened to only have 5 people actually comment on it. Please let me know what you think. Responses and critiques help so much with encouragment, writing, ideas, structure ect ect ect. So pretty please review.**

**Up Next: Hermione heads off to court... err, or the trial anyway.**

**Anon Reviewers (aka my faithful Mel lol)**

**Mel- So very glad you enjoyed it. And yes, things are only going to get worse for dear Ron. He's got a couple more healthy(ish) chapters in him though...**


	8. Prove It To Them

**Chapter 7: Prove It To Them**

"_Checkmate… again. Honestly Hermione, I think this is the one thing I'm better at than you."_

_Hermione smirked and began putting the chess pieces away. She hated chess, but knew Ron loved it—and loved beating her at it even more._

"_How do you know I don't just let you win?" she asked smugly._

_Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise but then shook his head._

"_You wouldn't. I know you wouldn't."_

_Hermione just shrugged, but the smile on her face gave away that Ron was indeed correct. She'd never just let him win._

_Once the chess set was put away the pair surveyed their modest campsite, both wishing for something to do. There hadn't been much activity in days, and despite the fact that activity usually ended up with one of them being badly injured, it was depressingly boring to just sit around all day waiting; it made things tense and anxious._

"_Oi, someone want to give me a hand?"_

_Hermione jumped slightly at the sound of Harry's voice and looked up to see him flying in after his recognizance with a strange looking package tucked under his arm._

_Ron extended an arm towards Harry, who tossed the package to him and landed with a thud._

"_Thanks mate," he said, setting his firebolt off to the side while he attempted to flatten his wind blown hair in place._

_Ron cast Hermione a strange look and then turned his attention back to Harry, who was now chattering away about their location to the detection boundary._

"… _still just outside it, so we can use our wands. We'll probably be in it by tomorrow… what are you staring it?"_

_Ron just shrugged and shook his head. "I was just wondering if you managed to scrape together any chocolate frogs while you were out. Our card collection and all…"_

_Harry looked at his best friend in confusion._

"_What the bloody hell are you on about?"_

_Again, Ron just shrugged as Harry continued to give Ron an incredulous look. Before Harry had the chance to speak again, Ron whipped his wand out and fired a disarming spell squarely at Harry. In almost the same moment, Hermione aimed a binding spell, causing Harry to fall to the ground wrapped in invisible ropes as his wand flew from his robe pocket and into Ron's waiting hand._

"_What the hell do you think you're doing you idiots!? Let me go!"_

"_Where's Harry," Ron said flatly._

_Harry craned his neck to look at Ron and Hermione, who were now looming over him, their wands poised straight at him._

"_What are you talking about? It's me you great prat."_

_Ron took a controlled breath and stared at the person in front of him. _

"_First, Harry Potter doesn't need a bloody hand holding on to a package on a broomstick—he's a damn Seeker for Merlin's sake; that was your first mistake—not to mention that horrid excuse for a landing. Second, anyone who knows Harry knows there is absolutely no point in trying to calm that bloody hair of his. Third, if you don't know how to prove to me you're Harry, then you obviously can't be him. Now, who the hell are you, and where the hell is Harry!"_

_Harry glared up at Ron and Hermione and didn't say a word._

"_Did you know," Hermione said after it became apparent that their captive was not going to answer, "that there is a spell that reverses the effects of polyjuice before the hour is up? It's said to be horribly painful, but don't worry, it should only take a few minutes."_

"_Bite me, you mudblood bitch."_

_Ron instantly reached down and grabbed the imposter by the robes, pulling him up off the ground. He flicked his wand and hissed the polyjuice reversal spell, pressing his wand unnecessarily deep into the imposter's neck. _

_After a few moments and some mangled screaming, Pansy Parkinson stood in Harry's place, glaring daggers at the pair in front of her._

"_Parkinson? Don't tell me you…" _

_Ron didn't even bother to finish his sentence and instead pulled up Pansy's sleeve, revealing a freshly burned dark mark._

"_Newbie," Hermione muttered, "She's out to prove herself. Where's Harry?" she demanded._

"_She's a newbie _and_ a rookie."_

_Ron and Hermione spun around to see a disheveled Harry storming towards them, blood tricking from his nose and a nasty yellowish bruise across his left cheek._

"_It's me," he said in a bored tone as Hermione kept her wand trained on Pansy while Ron's turned towards Harry. "Dumbledore, Alohamora, body bind, snogging… it's me."_

_Ron turned his wand back to Pansy and gave Harry a confused look while Hermione began to examine the package Pansy had brought with her._

"_Don't open it," Harry explained, "It's some ruddy attempt to kill us or something." Harry looked up and sighed at the look on Ron's face. "She clubbed me with my own damn broom!" he declared, giving answer to the befuddled expression his best friend wore. "We'll be taking you to the aurors now," Harry informed Pansy, sounding annoyed and almost bored with the whole situation, "Do us a favor though Parkinson, don't ever touch my broomstick again."_

_Harry gripped Pansy's elbow tightly and apparated with her side-along. He wasn't gone more than 5 minutes before the distinct popping noise filled the campsite again._

"_Me… again… Dumbledore frog card, Fluffy and the locked… oh, do I really have to do it all over again?"_

"_That's good enough Harry," Ron said, still looking a little baffled by the last 20 minutes. "What the hell was that?"_

_Harry sighed and shook his head, looking extremely agitated and almost a bit embarrassed. _

"_That mark was fresh," Hermione said, "She must have been on her expected mission to prove her loyalty to Voldermort or whatever that dung is he makes them go through. Don't know who she thought she was kidding. It was a ridiculously irrational plan."_

"_Irrational? It was bloody mental! I highly doubt Voldermort actually instructed her to do it. Besides, if he knew where we were, I don't think for a minute he'd send Pansy to come after us."_

_Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement and Harry just shrugged. He really didn't care why Pansy had gone on a half bakes mission to kill them—just as long as they were still all in one piece, and their cover hadn't been blown._

"_What were you doing off you're broom anyway?" Ron asked suddenly, "You're not supposed to get off, or even take the cloak off for that matter."_

_Harry suddenly went rather pink and he dropped his gaze to the ground._

"_I um… well…you see… well a man's got to pee!"_

_After a full minute of silence, Ron burst into laughter and Hermione just shook her head._

"_For Merlin's sake Harry… that could have been so much worse! What if it had been an inner circle death eater, or Voldermort really did have us cornered or something?"_

_Harry didn't answer and just shook his head sheepishly, Ron still roaring with laughter._

111111111111111111111111111111111111111

The week following Ron's birthday stretched on almost obnoxiously. Ron's program at St. Mungo's hadn't started yet, and Harry wasn't due to begin training with Puddlemere for a week and a half either. The trio had grudgingly admitted to Ginny that the party had been a spectacular idea, and agreed not to give her a hard time next time she offered to bring them out somewhere, but it did nothing to cure their boredom during the week.

Hermione had begun to look for a job in some shops along Diagon Alley, figuring that she may as well make use of her time before McGonagal was able to speak with her about whatever 'options' it was the Headmistress had in mind. She had been a bit distracted in her efforts however, as Ron's insomnia was hanging over everyone's heads, and the trial the trio would be attending was to take place at the end of the week.

Ron had told Harry about the ministry letter that had arrived days ago, and Harry had been quick to agree to coming along. He hadn't said anything else on the matter, and had brushed Ginny's questions about it off without explanation. The only thing that kept Ginny from giving him an earful was the fact that things were significantly less tense with her and Harry now, and she didn't want to make things uncomfortable again… yet. After the party, Harry and Ginny had stayed on light topics, and for the time being nothing more really needed to be said. Just getting Harry to behave normally around her was a small victory as far as Ginny was concerned.

Inevitably, the morning of the trial dawned, and Ginny prepared breakfast for the trio at her and Hermione's flat. It had become a bit of a tradition in the past month. Harry and Ron didn't complain. They probably wouldn't end up eating breakfast at all if someone didn't cook it for them, so they just stumbled into the girls' flat morning after morning, and Ginny fed them. She didn't really have the heart to tell them her apartment wasn't a dinning facility. The two boys seemed to look more and more exhausted every day, and she didn't think telling them so would be a good idea. They had yet to start rotating staying up with Ron since Ginny and Hermione hadn't come up with any practical ways to keep him occupied. Ron wasn't keen to have them witness his nightly torture sessions anyway, so Harry just kept up his role as nightly wrestler.

Before she had been filled in, Ginny had simply assumed that the two young men's fatigue was due to having issues with nightmares. She still remembered when they had returned to The Burrow after Voldermort's defeat. Their screams had filled the entire house at night and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. The second night the screaming had stopped, and Ginny assumed that her brother and friend had realized they were screaming in their sleep and silenced the room.

"Thanks Gin," Ron mumbled barely coherently as he stabbed his fork sleepily into his eggs.

Harry grunted in agreement and Ginny tried not to look overly concerned.

"Morning everyone," Hermione greeted them, already dressed in her robes, and swept a kiss along Ron's cheek before sitting down and joining her friends.

Ron, suddenly looking more awake, glanced over at Hermione, a questioning look in his eye, and she nodded in return, letting him know she was alright.

"Erm," Ginny said, a little awkwardly as the mood at the table was a bit somber and almost tense. (It was actually quite tense on boy's end of the table, but they were doing a good job of containing themselves). "Did you lot want to apparate in with me this morning?"

Harry swallowed his eggs and nodded to Ginny. The silence was beginning to unnerve her a bit.

"Right, well, whenever you're ready."

111111111111111

Harry sat as still as possible on the cold bench of the dungeon-like court room. He had never been a fan of this place and had only grown to hate it more in the last few months. Tonks had shown them in personally and smiled encouragingly at them before heading off to her auror duties, which these days mostly included dealing with coordinating prisoners' trial dates and times. She had told the trio that she was more or less a guard, as there wasn't much of anything to do out 'on the field.'

Harry gripped the edge of the bench tightly and clenched his jaw. The wizengamot were all seated, choir style, around a man named Suez—or something like that, Harry couldn't quite remember. He was said to be as strict and cold as Barty Crouch Sr. had been after Voldermort's first "defeat." It was clear from the looks on everyone's faces that they expected this trial to be quick and easy. The court room was packed, which only sickened Harry more. Any time someone with a well known name was put on trial the courtroom nearly filled. Snape's trial had been outrageous.

Harry shook his head. He didn't want to think about his former potions teacher. The public demand for him to be kissed had overpowered any evidence supporting his innocence—not that there was a lot in his favor, but Harry had his suspicions about Snape's loyalties in the end.

Suez looked up promptly at 8AM and called the session to order. Harry tuned out the courtroom jargon (he'd heard it enough times to recite it himself), and looked over at Ron and Hermione.

Hermione had a determined expression on her face and Harry knew instinctively that she would own the entire courtroom. She was a fierce public speaker, coupled with her quick thinking and logic Harry couldn't help but think she'd make a fantastic muggle lawyer.

Ron's fingers were interlaced with Hermione's, as they often were as of late, and was whispering something into her ear. Her eyes fluttered closed and she nodded, squeezing Ron's hand in response.

"Now," Suez announced, "bring the defendant in."

All eyes went to the doorway where the prisoner's were brought through. Tonks appeared moments later and the crowd instantly began to mutter as Draco Malfoy, bound in chains, appeared behind Tonks and was led to the center chair. Tonks muttered a spell and the chains surrounding the chair snaked up and around Malfoy's wrists and ankles.

The trio kept their expressions neutral as Malfoy allowed himself to be bound. His head was dropped low and his once flawless white hair hung limply in his face. His eyes were devoid of any emotion as he silently waited for the trial to begin.

"Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, both known and convicted death eaters, you are charged with the following," Suez's voice barked across the dungeon, "Bearing the mark of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; murder of Ariel and Gregory Aruel; active role in covert death eater operations; spy against the ministry of magic in favor of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore; commander of operations for the intended murder of several muggle borns; the names the ministry knows to have been targeted are as follows: Hannah Abbot, Collin Creevey, Dennis Creevey, Hermione Granger, and Kevin Whitby, among others." Suez paused here and looked down at Malfoy with distaste.

"The defendant," he continued, "has been offered the opportunity to lessen his sentencing from the maximum penalty of the Dementor's Kiss in the instance that he can offer assistance to the ministry, but has refused, is this true Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy looked up at Suez, and Ron involuntarily shuddered. He looked more broken than Ron remembered. Even the cowardice was gone from Malfoy's eyes. He was just a shell, and it unnerved Ron to say the least.

"The ministry has already apprehended any death eater I have had connections with. I cannot offer any information that would be of use to the ministry, though I would if I were able." Malfoy replied. His voice was hoarse, and he sounded as though he were reading from a script. He had no doubt been interrogated by several aurors already, and had given this response many times before.

"Very well. Do you understand the allegations against you?" Suez said, sounding almost bored.

"Yes."

"And your response?"

"I didn't murder the Aruel's. I don't even know who they are or where I allegedly murdered them."

Suez looked up at this and stared skeptically down his nose at Malfoy.

"Proof Malfoy! The evidence is not in your favor."

Malfoy's eyes slid shut and Harry and Ron both noticed the familiar flicker of anger before it quickly vanished and was replaced with the same defeated expression Malfoy had worn for the entire diatribe.

"I have no proof," he said quietly, "It's my word against the ministry's. Just as my supposed allegiance to the death eaters is. Just as my supposed hunt for muggle borns is, and the attempted murder, and the…"

"Silence! Unless you have something relevant to say, you are to hold your tongue!"

Malfoy bowed his head and both Ron and Harry nearly looked away. It was actually quite difficult to watch their old school rival in such a state. It was just… all wrong.

"That's what I thought," Suez sneered, "If there is no one here who can speak on your behalf, your sentencing shall be carried out…"

"There is someone who will speak for him."

Every head in the dungeon snapped around to stare at Hermione. She was standing from her place on the bench, Harry and Ron seated on either side, expressions unreadable. Suez looked highly flustered for a moment but recovered himself quickly. Malfoy was starring up at the trio in horror, his face suddenly turning slightly green.

"And who might that be?" Suez asked.

It took all of Hermione's willpower not to roll her eyes.

"Me."

Murmuring instantly broke out across the dungeon as Hermione continued to watch Suez with an icy stare. He nodded slowly and again seemed forced to recover himself.

"Please state your full name for Ministry records as well as your relation to the defendant."

This time Hermione did roll her eyes, but spoke out clearly.

"Hermione Jane Granger, former school mate of the accused."

"And…"

Hermione clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. She really wished she didn't have so much dislike for the ministry. The ministry was all about rules, and Hermione liked rules very much, but the corruption that was so blatant in the ministry was just too much. She didn't want to cooperate with them simply on principle.

"And allegedly a victim in the charges brought against Mr. Malfoy."

"What is it you have to say Miss Granger?" Suez asked carefully. He was no fool. He knew exactly who Hermione was, and was unsure of what to expect from her.

"I'd like to know what proof the ministry has with regards to the murder of the Aruels. I happen to have met their daughter and she seemed to think it highly unlikely that it was Mr. Malfoy. She seems to think that her parents were actually killed by stray wand fire in a death eater raid. If that's the case, I'd like to know how the ministry has any idea which wand the spell came from, or if it was even a death eater's and not an auror's for that matter. Mr. Malfoy's presence at the raid does not incriminate him. If that's the case, then I should be on trial as well—since I was present at the very same raid."

The dungeon was deadly quite. In truth, Hermione hadn't even known anything about the allegations surrounding the Aruel's death prior to the party at Seamus's pub. It was mere coincidence that she had even met Jenine. She had her doubts about the murder charge before meeting the girl (for entirely different reasons), but having Jenine confirm her suspicions that the ministry wasn't playing fair only added more fuel to the fire of anger Hermione had towards the ministry as a whole, and she wanted to get it out of the way first.

"Is there anything else Miss Granger?"

Hermione wanted to scream, but kept her face neutral.

"Yes there is. And I'd like to thank you for taking my inquiry seriously," she spat acidly, the sarcasm evident in her voice.

Suez looked up at her in mild surprise and raised an eyebrow impatiently at her.

"Miss Granger, if I may ask, why are you doing this? This man hunted you down for months with the intent to kill you. The dark mark is still burned into his flesh! His father is Lucius Malfoy; a member of You-Know-Who's inner circle!"

"I am well aware of who Lucius Malfoy is Mr. Suez!" Hermione's voice rang through the dungeon, echoing off the walls and shocking the room into silence. "Lucius Malfoy nearly killed me personally more times than I care to recall and _tortured_ me more times than I even _can_ recall. Lucius Malfoy is a loathsome excuse of a man and I do not wish to speak any more about him. In case the ministry has forgotten, it is not _Lucius_ Malfoy on trial here! The broken piece of a man before you is the one on trial, and it is most unfortunate that he must carry the foul name of his father but that is all it is—a name. The ministry will do well to remember that for the remainder of this trial!"

Harry starred up at Hermione in admiration and, to be honest, slight surprise. For the first time, Harry saw Hermione as the rest of the wizarding world did. She was fierce and radiated strength like nothing he had ever seen before. He and Ron knew her as the eleven year old crying in the girl's toilets; they knew her as the girl who panicked under certain pressures; they knew her as the shy girl who fretted over the frizzyness of her hair; they knew her as the girl who huffed in frustration when her complicated crepe recipe turned out perfectly but her scrambled eggs ended up burned. To these people however, Hermione was a powerful witch who had a hand in bringing down the most terrifying power that had pervaded their lifetimes. It was actually quite awe inspiring to realize this—to see her as everyone else saw her. With a bit of a start, Harry realized that it must be quite similar to the way the wizarding world saw Ron—to the way it saw _him_.

Suez had a look of fury on his face and the wizengamot began muttering to one another from behind him. Malfoy hadn't stopped starring at Hermione since she's stood, his eyes fixed on her in shock.

"Now," Hermione continued, "_Draco_ Malfoy was indeed a death eater. He took the mark before our sixth year at Hogwarts with the specific instruction to kill and destroy Albus Dumbledore as well as allow death eaters entrance into Hogwarts. He indeed was able to allow death eaters access to Hogwarts but could not murder Dumbledore. It seems to me that a man incapable of murder is incapable of remaining a death eater. I believe that Draco took the mark out of necessity to survive. To refuse to carry out the traditions of his family and what he had been taught his entire life would be suicide. That doesn't mean it's any less of a crime to accept the dark mark, but I feel the motive behind accepting such a fate should be taken account when sentencing is made."

"That's all very touching Miss Granger. I'm terribly sorry the defendant had such a rough childhood, but what makes you think he is incapable of murder? Killing Albus Dumbledore at the age of 16 is quite different than killing those you grew up despising once one is of age. I am not convinced he was incapable of murdering _then_. Evil permeates everything around it Miss Granger. I would think you of all people would understand that."

"I didn't say I _thought_ Mr. Malfoy is incapable of murder; I _know_ that he isn't," Hermione said coldly, disregarding Suez's comment.

"And why is that Miss Granger?" Suez spat, clearly impatient now.

"Because Draco Malfoy would not even allow someone to die on his conscious, regardless of who cast the spell."

"Is that so?"

"Yes it is. As it so happens, Draco Malfoy saved _my_ life!"

It was as though the entire room stopped. All eyes were on Hermione, with the exception of Ron and Harry, who were starring down Suez, daring him to be disrespectful to Hermione again.

"I… I beg your pardon Miss Granger?"

"Draco Malfoy saved my life. During the death eater raid that took place outside of Reading in February of last year, I was badly injured by a death eater." The court was now buzzing with whispers and murmurs and Hermione raised her voice over the noise. "It was Draco who found me, in a pool of my own blood. He was fleeing the raid in what I would later be informed was his attempt to escape the prison that is being a servant of _Voldermort_!"

The room fell silent once again at the sound of Voldermort's name. Hermione stood for a moment, waiting for calm to be restored before she continued her story. She swallowed, and in a much calmer voice, carried on.

"Draco picked me up and carried me to a safe area outside the dueling. He used what minimal healing skills he had to sustain my wounds to the best of his ability. At great personal risk, he waited with me until help arrived. In my ignorance I told him to kill me and get it over with, believing that he had orders to do so. He had no intention of killing me however; I don't believe he could," Hermione plowed on amidst the murmuring that had risen once again. "Only once my condition was stable and I was in the safe hands of my friends did Draco leave. He was gone and on the run—a state he remained in until his capture by the ministry! It is the shortcomings of the ministry that left Draco Malfoy with nowhere to turn! The desperation to appear _useful_ during the war ravaged this institution like the plague! Had Draco come to the ministry for protection, he would have been sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss without trial just so that the ministry could say they were _doing _something! The Malfoy name was highly valuable to the ministry and Draco knew it! He knew he could not turn here and so he was given no other choice but to run!"

The room was now in an uproar as Hermione continued to shout defiantly above the roar. Suez's commands for order fell on deaf ears as the dungeon continued to ring in both shouts of protest and calls of approval.

"Proof Miss Granger!" Suez bellowed, "You have no proof!!"

At this, Ron and Harry stood up at Hermione's sides.

"Ronald Billius Weasley, former schoolmate of the accused."

"Harry James Potter, also former schoolmate of the accused."

The sound of Ron and Harry's names effectively calmed the room as curiosity overtook the need to protest.

"We were there," Ron stated and Harry couldn't help noticing once again how the rest of the world must see them, "I was under the assumption that Draco had inflicted Hermione's wounds, but he hadn't. He was checking that they were stabilizing when I arrived with Harry. Before he fled, we asked him where his allegiance was. His response was that he could no longer claim one. He had no choice but to claim Voldermort verbally in order to protect his life but admitted he had not carried out a single order. Sheer dumb luck had kept him alive so far, and now if either side caught him he was a dead man."

Harry mentally shook his head and refused to dwell on what had just come out of Ron's mouth. He didn't know when any of them had learned to address people like this. Ron, who couldn't even tell Hermione she looked nice without blushing, had just shouted eloquently at a room full of the wizarding world's governing body.

"Also," Harry finally spoke up, shoving his ponderings to the back of his mind, "I was present at the murder of Albus Dumbledore and have already brought witness to that event. Draco Malfoy did indeed threaten to murder Dumbledore, but he _lowered his wand_. No curse or hex was ever uttered by Draco at the time of Dumbledore's death. I firmly believe that had he had a few more moments to consider it, Ma—Draco would have taken Dumbledore's offer of protection from Voldermort. When Dumbledore died, all hope for Draco's survival died with him."

"Question the death eater's you are holding as prisoners," Ron said coldly, "They will no doubt refer to Draco as a traitor."

The room sat in silence as everyone stared at their Golden Trio, defending one of the darkest names in recent history, the son of one of Voldermort's most faithful followers. Suez looked outraged. He had no response—not even an inkling of what could be said.

"Draco is a coward as well as responsible for much of the torment I endured in my adolescent life, but as for the charges brought against him in this courtroom, none of them warrant the fate of the Dementor's Kiss." Hermione starred at no one but Suez, who seemed to be more and more at a loss for what to say or do every passing moment. "He is a victim in the war just as much as anyone sitting here has been. This ministry _failed_ Draco Malfoy. He was given no other choice but to take the dark mark for his own survival. His name tainted any chance he had of seeking refuge here. He cannot be blamed for the shortcomings of the ministry. The ministry will do well to remember these shortcomings when deciding _Draco_ Malfoy's fate."

Hermione took her seat and the court room erupted. Hermione closed her eyes and sank back into Ron's shoulder, not wanting to listen any longer. To everyone else, she looked perfectly calm; she had been confident and passionate. It was only clear to the two young men on either side of her just how difficult the last 10 minutes had been. It wasn't Draco's fault that he wore his father's face—the face of the man who had been ruthless in his torture of Hermione in particular. He seemed to have an almost personal vendetta with Hermione, which, in actual fact, was a vendetta he had with all muggle borns.

Though none of the trio liked Malfoy in the slightest, they knew he was not evil. Hermione owed him her life, and as difficult as it was for Harry and Ron to admit, they could never repay Malfoy enough for saving their best friend.

Hermione had said it perfectly: all Malfoy was guilty of was cowardice and arrogance. They couldn't allow him to be condemned to a fate worse than death for that alone. Everyone knew that Malfoy's charges were worthy of the kiss.

The wizengamot had exited the room to deliberate Malfoy's sentencing and no one knew how long that would be. It was unusual that they ever left the room at all. Draco's eyes remained fixated on Hermione, his entire body tense with shock. She wished he would stop. She hated those eyes. Perhaps if they weren't so like Lucius' it wouldn't bother her so much. She shuddered slightly and Ron put an arm around her shoulder.

The room fell silent as the wizengamot filed back in and took their seats. Suez had a look of fury written across his features, but he took his seat calmly and directed his attention to Malfoy.

"Draco Malfoy, under the laws of the Ministry of Magic, the wizengamot has found you as the following," Suez nodded to Griselda Marchbanks who stood up to address the court room.

"In the charges of the murder of Ariel and Gregory Aruel: Not Guilty. In the charge of an active role in covert death eater operations: Not Guilty. In the charge of spying against the Ministry of Magic in favor of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Not Guilty. In the charge of commander of operations for the intended murder of targeted muggle borns: Not Guilty. In the charge of the attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore: Not Guilty. In the charge of bearing the dark mark of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Guilty of the mark's acceptance but Not Guilty of its implications due to reasonable question of allegiance. As such, the defendant's sentence shall be 5 years imprisonment at Azkaban Wizarding Prison."

Never in the history of its wizarding trials had such a thick silence fallen over the dungeon court room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were already on their feet and headed for the door by the time anyone had realized it was over: Malfoy would serve 5 years; that would be all.

Draco sat, frozen in the same stunned silence he had been put in the moment Hermione had stood and stated she would speak for him. Tonks removed the chains that bound him to the chair and directed him to stand. Everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion as the occupants of the court room began to whisper and murmur in excited or angry tones while shuffling towards the exits. His eyes caught sight of Ron's red hair above the crowd and he called out in a strained voice.

"Grang…Hermione…"

Hermione turned slowly to face Malfoy, her expression unreadable. Ron and Harry flanked either side of her, glaring at Draco, but didn't speak.

"I…" Malfoy stuttered, unable to formulate a sentence. "…why?"

Hermione starred at Malfoy, still neutral. She knew that with Harry and Ron, Malfoy would always be a rival. She did not pretend to understand the boys' animosity or pride or anything of that nature. To them, Malfoy was an enemy before there were dark marks and prophecies. She knew that they wouldn't touch Draco, not after he had saved her life, but that was all that stopped them and she knew it. They had spoken at the trial for her, not for Malfoy.

Hermione tilted her head slightly and tried to read the look of utter dumbfounded pain and relief on Draco's face. To her, Malfoy was nothing more than a scared little boy who had been bred to hate without question, and who bore the face of her tormentor. He was not a criminal.

"To prove to you that you are _not_ what they tried to make you." she said softly, her voice firm, "No one else was there when you found me Malfoy, no one else would have known if you had let the mudblood die." Hermione paused and collected herself before meeting Draco's eyes, "Prove it to them Malfoy. Prove it to the people in this courtroom and to the people in Azkaban. Show them you aren't evil."

Hermione turned and began to head for the door once again, not caring what happened to Malfoy from this moment on. She was finished with him now.

"Wait!"

Hermione froze but did not turn around.

"Draco. My name… it's Draco."

Hermione nodded slowly and continued out the door and up the spiral steps toward the exit. Had she turned around, Draco would have seen the tears prick the corner's of her eyes, just as Hermione would have seen the gratitude that, for the first time in his life, had appeared genuinely in Draco's.

Ron quickened his pace to catch up with Hermione and grabbed her hand. Only he and Harry knew the emotional war going on within Hermione and without a word, he apparated with her side-along back to the flat. There, the brave face melted, and Hermione Granger broke down.

* * *

**A/N**: Malfoy will be back later... much later. Also that flashback may come into play a bit later in the fic... I haven't quite decided just yet. Hope you enjoyed, and please Review :-)

**Up Next**: A bit of progress for Harry's emotional sanity... a _bit. _And a bit of discussion for Ron and Hermione (and perhaps some well earned snogging if they're lucky).

**My dear and faithful Mel: **Thank you for the review my dear. So glad you enjoyed the last chapter. Oddly enough I was quite nervous about the pub scene, as I'm a bit self conscious about my humor writing, but I'm glad to see it went off alright. Thanks for reading, and for your input.


	9. Stumble Through

**Chapter 8. Stumble Through**

"_Harry…" Ron whispered carefully. He didn't want Hermione to overhear him. She was busy poking around their small fire, preparing their breakfast before they headed out for the day._

_Harry looked up from where he was studying a map of England, various notes scrawled across certain cities. Voldermort had not made things simple. The horcruxes were hidden all over the bleedin' country. Harry was trying to decipher some sort of pattern, but none really jumped out at him—not that he expected it too. One could always hope though._

"_What?" he asked, at long last looking up from the map._

"_Shh, not so loud," Ron murmured, "I… come here."_

_Ron motioned for Harry to follow him away from Hermione so he could be certain they were out of earshot. Harry complied but gave Ron a bewildered look._

"_You ok?" Harry asked once Ron seemed satisfied they wouldn't be overheard._

_Ron ran a hand nervously through his hair and nodded._

"_I need… I need you to promise me something Harry."_

_Harry just stared blankly at his friend, who had begun pacing back in front of forth in front of him._

"_Ron… you're starting to weird me out mate."_

_Ron stopped his pacing, his shoulders slumped, and turned to look directly at Harry._

"_There was… there was a moment in the last battle… I thought that for a minute… for a minute that I was going to have to choose who to save. Lupin and Tonks were both in trouble and I didn't have time to get to both of them. It was… it was one or the other."_

_Harry continued to stare at Ron, suddenly feeling very uneasy about this discussion. He didn't know where Ron was going with this, but he knew he wasn't going to like it._

"_Ron, Remus and Tonks are fine. They both…"_

"_I know that Harry," Ron interrupted, resuming his pacing. "I just… the point is that I thought I was going to have to choose between them. It… it occurred to me that… that we might… we might have to do that with each other Harry. We might have to choose who… who gets to live."_

_Harry's heart pounded in his ears and his blood ran cold, sending small shivers through him. He had only briefly thought of this. He purposely avoided thinking about it, and here Ron was, bringing it all to the surface._

"_I don't want talk about this Ron," Harry said firmly, "We aren't going to have to make that choice. We won't…"_

"_Harry…" Ron said sharply. _

_He didn't finish. There was no need. Harry knew Ron was right. They might have to choose._

"_If you have to choose Harry," Ron said softly, meeting Harry's eyes, "If you have to choose between me and Hermione… choose her."_

_Harry gaped at the red head, wide eyed and completely thunderstruck._

"_Ron I… I don't know who I'd choose. I mean… I have no idea what the situation would be and what the options are and…"_

"_Harry," Ron interrupted, his voice deadly calm, "You don't have to choose. Could you really live with yourself knowing you chose one of us over the other? I'm making the decision for you."_

_It took Harry a moment to gather his thoughts again, but as soon as he could, he was arguing, still trying to deny that the situation could ever be a reality._

"_That isn't fair Ron! You can't… you can't just decide something like that for me! I mean… you just…"_

_Ron just looked at Harry, pleading with his eyes. It was enough to stop the words of protest from tumbling out of Harry's mouth._

"_Harry mate," Ron spoke, the cracking of his voice betraying his calm features, "If it were between you and Ginny… who would you have me choose?"_

_Harry wanted to scream. Why was Ron doing this? Why was he forcing Harry to think about this?"_

"_That's not fair," Harry whispered weakly, trying to keep his voice calm._

_Ron cleared his throat in an effort to keep his emotions in check, trying to dislodge the growing lump in his chest._

"_Promise me Harry."_

_Harry closed his eyes and drew a shuddery breath before nodding in resignation._

"_I… I promise. But you have to choose her over me too."_

_A pained expression overtook Ron's face as he bit down hard on his bottom lip. He looked carefully at Harry, and shook his head._

"_What… wha… why the bloody hell not! Why do you get to tell me who to choose and I don't?!"_

_Ron closed his eyes and again shook his head. _

"_Harry," Ron started, his voice still cracking with emotion, "I can't."_

"_Why?!" Harry whispered fiercely, "Why not?!?"_

"_Because without you, we don't have any hope of winning this damn war!" Ron clenched his teeth for a moment and calmed himself down before he started yelling and attracted Hermione's attention. He had to make Harry understand. "She'd never forgive me Harry," he began again, his voice much softer, "If I saved her and let you die, what good was saving her? There would be no hope of a future worth being rescued for. Don't you get it? You're the leader here Harry, as much as you don't deserve the burden, it still falls to you. Me and Hermione can only shoulder so much. I'd take it from you in a heart beat if I could, but the fact is I… I can't. I would though; you don't deserve this."_

_Harry stood motionless in front of Ron, wishing he could just erase the last few minutes and go back to starring at that stupid, useless map. His chest was tight and that damn foreign lump was forming at the back of his throat. He couldn't cry in front of Ron. He _wouldn't_ cry in front of Ron. _

"_I'm… I'm your knight Harry… always have been," Ron said quietly. "I hope… I hope you realize that by now. Knights, they…I'd—I'd sacrifice…Harry this is just so much bigger than a chess game…"_

_Harry just stood there, his body refusing to move. Ron stepped forward and put a hand on Harry's trembling shoulder and it registered with Harry that Ron was shaking too. His best mate didn't want to have this conversation any more than he did. Both of them wanted to turn tail and run back to the garden at the Burrow and complain about having to de-gnome it—wanted to march off to the quiditch pitch and tease each other about who had the best agility—wanted to be in their school dormitories discussing the finer points of the female body with Neville, Dean, and Seamus. _

_But they couldn't. They wouldn't. _

"_Promise me," Ron whispered, fighting back tears as the remaining threads of his boyhood began to fray. "Please."_

"_Forgive me?" Harry asked seriously, his voice tight._

_Ron nodded in understanding._

"_Of course Harry. I wouldn't forgive you if you _didn't_. And… and you have to forgive me too… if I have to… choose you."_

_Harry drew a deep, shuddery breath and forced himself to look at Ron, whose eyes were shining with unshed tears._

"_I promise."_

1111111111111111111111111

Ginny took a deep breath and knocked softly on Ron and Harry's door before letting herself in. She wasn't stupid. As soon as she realized _who_ had been on trial that morning she understood what all the tension with the trio had been about. The buzz throughout the ministry had not even been subtle. The tale of Hermione's testimony and that the youngest Malfoy would only be serving 5 years had circulated throughout the departments before lunch.

Ginny had returned home as soon as she was able, only to find her flat occupied by Hermione fast asleep in Ron's arms on the couch. Her brother had put a finger to his lips and Ginny had simply reversed her course and headed upstairs.

"Harry?"

No reply.

"Harry, are you in here? My flat is a bit occupied at the moment and… oh heavens."

Ginny stopped in the entry way of the kitchen and took a deep breath to calm herself. She had to remind herself that Harry had endured a very rough day, and her yelling at him would not help matters.

"I'm not drunk Ginny."

"You certainly look it," she responded coldly, not at all impressed.

Harry looked up at her from his seat at the kitchen table, a nearly empty bottle of wine in front of him. He looked exhausted but was, in actual fact, sober. He brought his fingertip gracefully to his nose in an attempt to satisfy Ginny.

Ginny shook her head and sat down across from her friend, relieved he hadn't been immature enough to just get himself trashed.

"I imagine you heard?"

Ginny nodded and poured herself a glass of wine. "I thought you hated alcohol," she said, giving Harry the option of avoiding the subject of the trial.

"Is Hermione alright?" Harry asked, ignoring Ginny's comment.

"She was asleep… in Ron's arms, so I don't think she can be too bad off."

Harry nodded and took a sip of his wine, grimacing. Ginny snickered and took a long sip of her own, relishing in its flavor.

"I don't know how you lot do it. This stuff is vile," Harry told her, his face still twisted in disgust.

"It's a Weasley thing. I'm fairly certain Charlie's downed an entire bottle of red wine before and not even been the slightest bit tipsy. Let's be honest though, Charlie's huge. The twins can identify beers blindfolded—I've seen them do it at parties before—and Percy is a wine connoisseur if I ever saw one."

"Amazing. I can barely get through a pint without losing my balance."

Ginny smirked at this and recalled the one and only time she had seen Harry Potter drunk. He was right—it certainly didn't take much.

"How is it you made it through that then?" Ginny asked, gesturing to the now empty wine bottle.

Harry grinned sheepishly at her. "I only just got it out. It's Ron's. Been here ages."

Ginny laughed and shook her head at Harry.

"You're pathetic."

"Yeah, I know."

Silence settled over the two friends and for once, it was a comfortable one. Ginny was bursting to ask questions about the morning, but wasn't sure how Harry would respond. His temperament had always been finicky. Ginny was surprised when it was actually Harry who spoke up first.

"I don't know how she did it Gin."

Ginny set her glass down and eyed Harry curiously.

"She…" Harry hesitated, trying to figure out just how to put what he was thinking into words. "She's like this whole other person when she's addressing people. I mean, she's not insincere or anything like that. I guess I just… I saw her how everyone else sees her today. Ya know?"

Ginny _did_ know. She had experienced the same thing, watching Ron mostly, as well as Harry and Hermione. She had gotten used to it—accepted the fact that her closest friends were occasionally much older than they felt. Everyone involved with the war was.

"It's a bit unnerving isn't it," Ginny replied. "Especially when you realized that _you_ look like that to everyone else sometimes as well."

Harry stared at Ginny. He couldn't figure out how she always managed to pinpoint exactly what it was he was thinking, but was too scared to actually verbalize. Sure, seeing Hermione in a new light had been a big deal, but it wasn't the same as the realization that this new light applied to himself as well.

"What?" Ginny asked, confused by his expression.

Harry shook himself and blinked back at Ginny. "Nothing. Sorry."

The silence settled once again and Ginny waited for Harry to make the next move in the conversation. She knew he would at this point.

"Ginny, I… I want to think I could have done what Hermione did for Ma… for Draco, but I don't know that I could have."

Ginny tilted her head slightly and regarded Harry carefully. She couldn't ever recall him referring to Draco by anything other than his surname.

"Draco is foul, Gin. Always has been. He's a bully and a coward and a damned idiot. But Hermione was right; he's not a criminal. He didn't deserve to have his soul sucked out. But still… he _hated_ Hermione." Harry closed his eyes and Ginny briefly wondered if he had forgotten she was in the room as he continued to ramble. "I think the hardest thing was just how much he looks like Lucius. I know that sounds crazy and all, but the things that man did to her—to us—I had a hard time not lunging at Draco in the middle of the trial just for _breathing_ like his father. He… he put Hermione under the _cruciatus_ while me and Ron were forced to watch every chance he got, and seeing Draco sitting there, looking so much like him… I just… I almost couldn't control myself. I kept seeing Hermione, writhing in front of me, and those stupid grey eyes leering at me from behind her."

Ginny suppressed a gasp. She knew her friends had been tortured and worse by the death eaters, but hearing _Harry_ talk about it was something entirely new and not to mention unexpected. Harry's eyelids slid open again and his green orbs met her brown ones.

"I wish I could believe I was as strong as Hermione."

Ginny had no idea what to say. She suddenly realized why the trio was so quiet about their experiences over the last 2 years. Harry just looked at her, and it dawned on Ginny that Harry didn't need her to understand him in this moment; he just needed her to accept him for the emotional mess he was.

"I think you would have been," she told him softly.

Harry dropped his gaze and swirled his wine absently around in its glass.

"I…" Ginny said tentatively, "I really wish that you guys would talk about it more. I mean, I know it must be hard, but you can't just keep all that locked away to haunt you privately. You guys don't have to make it so that you're so alone in all of it."

Harry met Ginny's eyes once again, and Ginny couldn't help but shudder at the emotion she saw there. Harry actually looked relieved, and almost thankful.

"We do talk about it Ginny… when we need to," he told her honestly. "I can't tell you how many Romanians have seen me cry," he added with a smirk.

Ginny grinned at him and nodded. She was certainly glad to hear that he hadn't been entirely stubborn about opening up regarding the past 2 years of his life.

"Speaking of… emotional things," Harry continued, "I wanted to um… to mention something you said the other day."

Ginny just looked at him blankly. Afraid that saying something may break whatever spell Harry had been put under in the last hour. She knew that any minute now she was going to stop dreaming and the silent, brooding Harry was going to be sitting in front of her.

"You mentioned how you guys are always trying to prove to me that you won't abandon me?"

_That _conversation. Ginny felt the tips of her ears burn slightly. She had been a bit blunt that day and while she never regretted being blunt, or any of what she had said to Harry, she knew she could be a bit… passionate at times.

"Harry I… I'm not sorry for any of that. I…"

Harry held up a hand to silence her, a small trace of a smile evident on his face.

"You mentioned how you guys are always trying to prove that you won't abandon me and all of that. Ginny… I… Merlin this is hard."

Ginny just sat patiently, speechless for probably one of the first times in her life.

"Ginny for years I couldn't figure out why I was never able to just _trust_ you guys. I mean yeah, on a battlefield with Ron and Hermione next to me I was nearly fearless. If Hermione called at me to duck, I ducked, no questions. I trusted Ron and her with my life. But… but the emotional stuff… I just couldn't ever do it. The closest I ever got to really trusting someone with that was… well up until we left to search for horcruxes anyway… the closest I ever got was with you."

Harry swallowed here, unable to keep his gaze on Ginny. She remained frozen to her chair, her tongue still firmly anchored to the roof of her mouth and unable to form words.

"I never knew why I couldn't just let you in all the way. Or why it took me ages and ages and extreme circumstances to let Ron and Hermione in. Then… then the other day you said… jeez I wish I could get this out more clearly!" Harry ran a hand through his hair and glanced back up at Ginny, taking a deep breath.

"You said you guys weren't the Dursleys. Gin, I couldn't for the life of me figure out what you meant by that! I mean, what the hell? The Durselys? I haven't had anything to do with them pretty much since I found out about Hogwarts. I lived in their house during the summers, and that was pretty much it. I haven't even had any contact with them for almost 3 years! But Gin, you… you knew. I don't know how, but you knew. It's _them_ that I can't get over. I… they convinced me my emotions didn't matter from the time I was a year old. I believed them. They're still in my head whether I realize it's them or not. That little voice that tells me not to let anyone see me weak, that's them. I just… I just wanted you to know that I realize that now, and... and I'm trying to make it better. I just… it's hard."

Ginny opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She vaguely wondered if she and Harry were ever going to manage to have a conversation where they both actually _took_ _turns_ speaking to one another.

To Ginny, the damage that the Dursley's had inflicted on Harry had always been so obvious. She knew Ron and Hermione knew, and probably a handful of Order members knew as well. Apparently, no one had ever thought to point this out to Harry. They all had just assumed he _knew_. In hindsight, that theory didn't make much sense though. How does a person just _know_ that the emotional abuse they suffered wasn't normal, ok, or even false? The thought that on a subconscious level, Harry actually _believed_ the Dursleys when they told him he was worthless sickened Ginny. Screw the fact that they were Harry's last living relatives; Ginny would love to introduce them to her wand.

"Harry…"

"Don't make me talk about it anymore, please Gin? I just… it's been a draining day. I just wanted to tell you so that… you know… so that you'd know I was working on it. And don't worry," he hastened to add as Ginny opened her mouth to object, "I'm not trying to do it alone."

111111111111111111

Ron shifted carefully next to Hermione, trying to get a bit more comfortable without waking her. He knew he wouldn't be able to stay here for too much longer. If he fell asleep (which he could easily do considering how exhausted her felt) it probably wouldn't go over that well. He knew that he was going to just have to suck it up eventually, and that Hermione would come up with a way to stay up with him at night—she always thought of something.

Ron ran his fingers through Hermione's wild mass of hair and grinned contentedly. He made a mental note to try extra hard not to be so thick. Why he hadn't wanted to date Hermione sooner was beyond him now. Then again, who was he kidding? He'd been dating Hermione for years.

Hermione stirred and snuggled deeper into Ron's chest. He stifled a laugh; Hermione was not a graceful sleeper. Running his fingers through Hermione's hair, Ron winced slightly as his fingers grazed a small scar across her scalp. He knew exactly where and when she'd gotten it and had healed it himself. Hermione had been grateful that Ron's stitching charms were quite improved by then. Harry had a permanent bald spot on his left leg from where Ron had stitched a cut for him early on in their mission.

Ron knew every single one of Hermione's scars. He couldn't tell you where over 75 of his own scars had come from, but he knew Hermione's. He knew who had caused most of them, how they'd happened, when and where they had come from.

And he knew that there were a lot fewer scars then there should have been, considering what she had faced.

Hermione was an astounding duelist. He and Harry had learned to hold their own fairly well (no surprises there, as Harry had always done well in Defense), but it was nothing like Hermione. She may have been mediocre while learning Defense and dueling skills at school, but when it came time to put them into practice no one could match her quick thinking and seemingly endless knowledge of spells. In short, she was absolutely spectacular in a duel.

Ron felt his blood run slightly cold as memories of Hermione faced with more than one death eater ran through his mind. Not for the first time, revelation of just how powerful the witch in his arms was sank in. She was modest, but not clueless. She had to know she was powerful.

Ron looked down at Hermione and frowned slightly. He was supposed to be the one to protect her. He had always been a little intimidated by Hermione, as well as fascinated by her sheer brilliance at times, but he wasn't sure how he felt about not being able to protect her like he felt he was supposed to. He held her a little tighter as he brushed his thoughts aside.

Hermione stirred again and this time her eyes fluttered open and a smile graced her lips. Ron grinned down at her and brushed a stray curl off her face.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey."

"You um, you ok?"

Hermione smiled, a genuine smile, and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, I really am. It was just… it was hard."

Ron nodded and pulled her close to him. "I know. But you… you were bloody brilliant 'Mione. You should have seen yourself. No one ever would have known you were… you know, that you were so emotional."

Hermione arched an eyebrow up at Ron and smirked playfully at him.

"'Mione?"

Ron grinned and nodded. "Yeah. 'Mione."

Hermione considered this for a moment, pulling herself up so that she was more level with Ron. The two had somehow managed to both lie horizontally on the couch, facing each other on their sides. Ron propped himself up slightly on his elbow, grinning smugly at Hermione.

"I think," Hermione said finally, "I think I like it."

Ron was about to respond when Hermione's lips were suddenly on his neck, freezing any thoughts that were in his head and silencing any words that had been intending to make their way out of his mouth. Ron was rendered completely immobile as Hermione slowly and deliberately kissed her way towards Ron's jaw line and up to the corners of his mouth.

Hermione pulled away slightly and looked at Ron with a puzzled expression. His eyes were wide and he still hadn't moved in the slightest.

"Is something wrong?"

Ron continued to stare at her, trying in vain to unfreeze his brain. He managed to shake his head and Hermione forced back a laugh.

"Well are you ok then?" she asked.

"Yeah… I just…I…" Ron started, his brain suddenly working again, "…where did you… I mean… you're… you don't just…"

Hermione erupted into laughter and shook her head at Ron.

"I'm what Ron? A quiet book worm? A goody little two-shoes?"

"A goody little what?"

"Never mind," Hermione said, still laughing a little at Ron's priceless expression of shock that still hadn't made it off of his face.

"My point, Ronald, is that it's the quiet girls you have to watch out for. And for goodness sakes just because it took you years to get a clue and make everything 'official' doesn't mean that we haven't been practically _together_ since who knows when. I personally think we're way past due for some actual snogging."

She grinned at him and leaned forward to meet his lips. Ron felt like his head was going to spin completely off his neck. He knew if Hermione's lips actually made contact with his that any coherent thought was going to fly off to Merlin knows where and he'd never be able to get the thoughts out of his mouth.

"Hermione wait!"

Hermione pulled back again, a look resembling hurt clear on her face, but it melted when she saw the pained look on Ron's, obviously in the middle of in internal battle.

"I… have you ever… I mean… where did you learn to do that! I mean… I'm not stupid enough to think that you've never touched another guy before. I mean… I realize Krum would have to be completely mental not to kiss you, but… well, you know… you know how far I've gone and I… I…"

Hermione almost sighed in relief. It wasn't exactly a comforting thing to have your boyfriend back out of kissing you, but Ron had a point. She had witnessed first hand pretty much the extent of Ron's physical experiences with girls—or _a _girl as the case was. Hermione had never really disclosed much of her own experience in that area, except to Ginny and, on her more daring evenings, a few of the girls in her dormitory.

"Ron," Hermione said firmly, effectively silencing the still spluttering red head, "Victor and I… we kissed. That's it. And Cormac kissed me as well… if you can even call it that. I assure you the experience was not a pleasant one and was entirely one sided."

Ron looked only slightly relieved by this, but his reddening ears revealed he still had more to say.

"Ron?"

Ron looked up at Hermione and met her gaze. "I just… I don't know Hermione. All I've ever done is kiss Lavender too, but… but it wasn't ever… it wasn't ever anything like… like _that_."

Hermione gazed back at Ron, trying to work out what he was trying to tell her. She was an expert at reading Ron and decoding what he was actually saying, but sometimes, she knew you just had to let him stumble his way through a conversation.

"Hermione, I… you just seem so much more… _experienced_."

Hermione broke into a grin; she couldn't help herself.

"Ron," she said gently, moving closer to his face once again, "Viktor was, well, he was 17. I mean, it was a bit different than the plunger and slurping event that transpired between you and Lavender. But I promise you, I never… things with Viktor were never like they are with you," Hermione grinned and snaked her fingers behind Ron's head and into his hair, "Maybe if you did more than freeze in shock, you'd find that there's a difference between snogging some schoolmate in the hallway, and making out with your girlfriend on the couch in her flat. Some things just come naturally."

Ron could have kicked himself. As usual, Hermione was right. One day, he was going to come up with something intelligent or clever _before_ she did.

"Besides," Hermione whispered into Ron's ear, "I've had a long time to think about this."

"Oh yeah?"

Hermione grinned into Ron's ear and nodded, glad he was apparently finished being a nervous 14 year old. His nervous expression had melted into one of enthusiasm and she was tempted to change her mind and pull away from him just for the entertainment of teasing him.

"I didn't take you for the type of girl who sits around thinking about these things," Ron said, amused.

Hermione didn't have the chance to reply as Ron gently brought his lips to hers. Ron and Hermione may have been flirting for years, but the only real kiss they'd ever shared had been last week in Ron's hallway.

Ron had to admit, this was _way_ better than flirting.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Ginny didn't bother to knock on the door of her own flat.

"Nice to know you don't snog everyone the same tacky way you snogged Lavender."

Ron and Hermione (who had somehow wound up on top of Ron) broke apart, and Ron scrambled to his feet, dumping Hermione unceremoniously on the floor.

"Bloody hell… sorry."

Ginny smirked and eyed the couple as Ron helped Hermione back to her feet.

"Err… well," Ron muttered awkwardly, "Goodnight ladies."

Ron kissed Hermione quickly (and quite chastely in Ginny's presence) and shuffled past his sister, avoiding her eyes, and slipped out the door.

Ginny looked over at Hermione, still smirking, and raised her eyebrows. Hermione turned scarlet and avoided Ginny's eyes, trying in vain to calm her hair down.

"I um… I'm just going to fix something to eat," Hermione muttered, "Want anything?"

Ginny just continued to look at her roommate, her smirk spreading into a grin.

"Oh shut up," Hermione huffed, marching off to the kitchen.

"I didn't say a word!" Ginny said defensively, and followed Hermione into the kitchen, not missing the sheepish smile the older girl was trying in vain to keep hidden.

111111111111111111111111111

"Ron."

"Yeah?"

"What the bloody hell was that?"

Ron turned his head to look at Harry. The pair was sprawled on their backs across Harry's bed, too exhausted to move.

"I told you—it's getting worse."

The two best friend's lay in silence for a few moments, save Ron's uneven breathing as he tried to catch his breath again.

"You start the healer program tomorrow," Harry said, deadpan.

"And you start training with Puddlemere a few days after that," Ron replied.

Silence fell again, and Harry considered pulling himself off of the mattress and making breakfast for the girls in an attempt to ignore the fact that he and Ron were in a very bad situation. Breakfast was the only thing he knew how to cook without creating a natural disaster, but he was too exhausted to be bothered.

Both boys let out a long sigh and in a distinctly 'Fred and George moment' muttered simultaneously into the dawn filled room:

"Bloody Hell."

* * *

**A/N:** I know, not too much movement in this chapter, but it needed to be there I promise. I was, however, very pleased with the flashback. I think it's my favorite thus far. I'm a bit wary of the 'fluff' scene. I'm a bit of a hopeful cynic when it comes to romance... so it can come out a bit wonky in my writting. Anyway, feedback is greatly appreciated, so please review (and thank you so much to those of you who do).

P.S. I apologize if there are more errors than usual in this chapter (and by all means, bring them to my attention so I can correct them). I don't know what possesed me to put this up at nearly 4 in the morning... it's not like I couldn't have waited. But in any case, let's just all be glad that I only have one mid-term left and it isn't tomorrow lol.

**Up Next:** Healer training, an old professor, and a potion.

**Anon. Reviewers:**

Mel- As always, thank you so much for your glowing review. I was wary about even writing a trial scene to be honest, because as you said, we've seen it a hundred times, but I was relatively pleased with how it turned out and am glad you agree. There's no way I could have just written it as 'hey let's all be friends now.' Completely impractical. Malfoy, Harry and Ron haven't liked eachother since they stepped off the train... I don't see that changing no matter what 'side' Malfoy's on. Sort of like Snape and Remus (uhh, before Snape went and killed Dumbledore that is). Anyway, thank you for your feedback.

Grace- Thanks for your feedback, it is seriously so, so appreciated. I'm flattered by your compliments of my writing in general. If only I could come up with a world of my own to write about lol. And yes, there a lot of super-human characters out there... and it annoys the heck out of me. No one likes a perfect person... too impractical. I hope you continue to enjoy the fic.

Thanks also to John.


	10. Debilitating

**Chapter 9: Debilitating**

_Harry ducked as wand fire flew over his head. He hit the ground hard but instantly got back up and continued running. He had to find the others. He had to make sure Ron had found it._

_Harry suddenly felt himself being pulled violently off his feet and towards a large pile of debris. He landed with a thud and clamored around to get his bearings._

"_Sorry Harry," Hermione groaned, "I didn't have much of a choice."_

"_No it's fine," Harry waved her off. He was accustomed to being accio-ed places by now. "Where's Ron?"_

"_Right here mate. I got it."_

_Harry sighed with relief at the sight of Ron firmly clutching the horcrux, his left eye bruised and swelling. Hermione aimed a spell at the horcrux and it shrunk down to fit in Ron's palm. She took it from him and slid it safely inside her bra. _

_The first time Hermione had done that it had been with a page of notes and Ron and Harry had been a mixture of both stunned and appalled. Hermione had a point though—no death eater was going to go searching down a mudblood's blouse. The statement had been so outrageous to the young men that they simply hadn't commented since._

"_We've gotta get out of here," Harry said. "We've gotta leave before…"_

"_Too late, they've already attacked the village."_

_Harry jumped at the sound of Hestia Jones' voice. He had been so preoccupied that he hadn't noticed the other order members with Hermione and Ron._

"_Come on," Moody growled, pulling a portkey out of his coat pocket. "This will take us to the rendezvous point."_

_The group silently gripped the old soda bottle and were whisked away further into the village. When they landed, the fighting had slowed considerably but the damage had been done. Flames licked the sides of buildings and screams echoed throughout the street. _

_Fred, George, and Lupin stood in the center of the road, dueling fiercely with the last set of death eaters remaining on the street. One of the masked men suddenly turned to his partner and made some sort of hand gesture. Instantly, the death eater flicked his wand towards the nearest house before disapparating from the village, followed immediately by his partner._

_The trio and order members ran towards the twins and Lupin. They needed to get the aurors in here to help get the wounded out of these buildings. They needed to get the fires put out so that they could even get _in_ the buildings._

_Harry, Ron and Hermione slowed as they neared the order members. Something was off. They didn't know how they knew, but something just wasn't right. The trio stood still and listened carefully as screams met their ears. _

_Fred's screams._

_In an instant they were running again, their tired feet pounding the street, Ron pulling ahead of them._

"_Angelina!"_

_Harry felt his blood run cold at the sound of Fred's voice. He had never heard such a sound come from either one of the twins before. It was so raw that Harry nearly shivered despite the heat radiating from the many fires._

"_Fred! You have to calm down!" George yelled, his arms firmly gripped around his brother's waist, holding him back from the burning building._

"_Let me go George! Let! Me! GO!"_

_Fred's voice echoed across the street, cracking and breaking as he fought against George's hold, literally lunging away from his brother._

"_You can't go in there Fred!" George tried to tell him, desperately holding on to the panicking Fred. "Wait till the fire's out! We'll go get her as soon as it's out Fred! You'll be killed if you go in there now!"_

"_I don't care!" Fred roared back, tears of frustration streaming down his face, "Let me go you bastard! Let me go!"_

"_No!" George replied, his own voice cracking._

_Fred continued to struggle against George's hold, screaming Angelina's name. He kicked, punched, and bit his brother, a sight that would have seemed ridiculously childish had it not been so utterly tragic. _

_But George refused to let go._

"_He's going to hyperventilate," Ron muttered to Harry, neither of whom had been able to tear their eyes from the scene, nor do anything to interfere. It was almost as though it were a private moment between the twins. No one else felt they had it in them to stop Fred from running into the burning building, despite the fact that they agreed he couldn't go in after Angelina. Several of the Order members had turned away, busying themselves with putting the fires out._

_Sure enough, Fred began to panic and was having trouble breathing; but he didn't stop. He continued to fight, weakly now, against George, slowly dissolving into tears._

"_I hate you for this George! You hear me!?" Fred thundered, his voice hoarse and strained, "I hate you for this!"_

_George's face drained of all color and his eyes seemed to fade momentarily as his expression went blank and Fred suddenly began gasping for air._

"_Shit," Ron muttered, extending his wand arm._

_Ron moved towards his brothers and fired a spell directly at Fred who instantly went limp in George's arms._

"_Just set him down," Ron instructed. "He'll be alright."_

_George did as he was told, the strange blank look still on his face as he knelt down next to Fred while Ron checked to make sure he was breathing properly._

"_He didn't mean it," Ron muttered to his brother. "He was just panicking is all. He didn't mean it George."_

_George nodded numbly and ran a hand through his hair._

"_Yeah," he mumbled to himself. "Yeah…"_

_Without warning, George suddenly pounded his fists onto the pavement and let out an anguished, strangled whimper that Ron would never be able to erase from his memory. Before anyone could stop him, George ran headlong into the burning building._

11111111111111111111111111

"Goodness, are you two alright?"

Harry and Ron nodded wordlessly to Hermione, who had looked up from her book to find a very haggard looking Ron and Harry emerging through the door. Ron half heartedly swept a kiss across Hermione's forehead and slumped into a chair next to Harry. Hermione returned to her book, resolving herself to refrain from comment.

"Hermione," Ron sighed, his fingers at his temples and his eyes firmly shut, "Remind me again where I go to check in?"

Hermione looked back up again and furrowed her brow in concern.

"Uppermost floor. Just floo to the St. Mungo's student lobby. There should be a desk with all the information you need… are you sure you're alright?"

Ron sighed, opened his bloodshot eyes, and blinked blearily at Hermione. Harry concentrated on his porridge and shoved a spoonful in his mouth to keep himself from blurting out angrily.

"Rough night 'Mione," Ron answered, not wanting to add what he knew he needed to say next, "And… and I think I'm getting sick."

"You _are_ sick," Harry muttered. "Damn curse."

Hermione nodded and said nothing. She knew this would be the case eventually.

Ron finally slid his breakfast away from himself, unable to eat anymore. He couldn't taste it; his sinuses were clogged and his head was swimming. The weeks he'd been going without proper sleep were finally catching up to him. He knew his friends were getting worried, but he didn't know what else he was supposed to do.

Ginny cast her brother a concerned look and headed towards the window to let Pig and Hedwig in. Hedwig gracefully landed next to Harry while Pig flew circles over Ron's head, effectively making him dizzier before he snatched up and grabbed the tiny owl in a motion that would have made any seeker proud.

"Remus wants me to meet him for lunch," Harry announced to no one in particular as he scanned the parchment Hedwig had delivered to him. He summoned himself a quill from the counter and scribbled a quick reply while Ron wrestled his own parchment away from the still wildly hooting Pig.

"Bloody bird," he mumbled, finally freeing the letter and tossing Pig unceremoniously over his shoulder. "Can't you teach him how to be a bit more dignified?" Ron asked Hedwig, who merely blinked from Ron to Pig as if to ask who he was kidding.

"Gang's going to have a quiditch scrimmage Saturday; Dean wants us to come. Says you can come too 'Mione, some of the other girls will be there too so you won't get stuck being bored on the ground."

"You aren't going anywhere if you're ill Ronald," Hermione said flatly, her eyes never leaving her book.

Ron didn't bother to argue or tell Hermione that she wasn't his mum. He was too tired.

1111111111111111111111

Ron sighed and forced himself to keep his eyes open. He had realized some time ago that by aspiring to be a healer, he had willingly signed himself up for what could only be considered school. _Years_ of it, to be exact. He sat in an auditorium much like a muggle university would have, only a bit smaller. He had seen them in some films Hermione had shown him, but never actually thought he'd find himself in anything resembling one.

The healer in charge of registration had graciously given him a potion to ease his cold symptoms, but he hadn't considered that it may make him even drowsier that he already was.

Ron forced himself to focus on the medi-witch at the front of the class and pushed all thoughts of his night troubles to the back of his mind. There would be none of Hermione's notes for him to rely on here.

Scanning the room, Ron noticed that there really weren't all that many students in the program. They really were quite picky with who they let in here. The interviewer had been one of the most intimidating people Ron had ever met outside a death eater's mask; it was a wonder he'd made it through the interview with his dignity still intact. He'd answered more questions in that hour than he had ever answered in one sitting before—and that was including when he had been drilled by the ministry regarding Voldermort's defeat.

"Right," the medi-witch announced (Ron silently hoped he hadn't tuned out anything vitally important), "Failing to show up results in being dropped from the program. If you want an exception, and believe me there aren't many, you take it up with chief of staff, Healer Watson Owenson. I'm going to call the role today, but after this you will simply check yourselves in with your wands like so…"

The medi-witch demonstrated a wonky bit of wand waving followed by an incantation before continuing on with the role. Ron groaned mentally. This was not going to be good.

"Adams, Johnathon?"

Again, Ron marveled at how he had once been jealous of the famous Harry Potter. He owed Harry more than his life for being such an enormous prat about it in 4th year.

"Patil, Padma?"

Ron's gaze landed on Padma, her hand raised to acknowledge her presence, and made a mental note to sit with her next class. He was going to need someone to exchange notes with if he had any hope of moving to the next stage of the program. He wondered how many of the people in here had gone to Hogwarts, and how many had been in Ravenclaw. He didn't recognize anyone else from Gryffindor, but he did recognize a few more Hogwarts students.

"Turpin, Lisa?"

Ron noticed that every eye automatically focused lazily on whomever it was that raised their hand as the medi-witch continued through the role. It couldn't be helped. There was nothing else to occupy yourself with. Ron braced himself as the medi-witch worked her way through more names. Why had he ever thought fame was a good thing?

"Weasley, Ronald?"

Every face in the room snapped up, searching the auditorium. Whispers broke out and Ron couldn't help but sigh as he brought his hand up.

The medi-witch showed no indication that there was anything at all stupendous about Ron's presence in the room and he made a mental note to remain eternally grateful to her for it.

When the role had finished, the medi-witch (whose name Ron really wished he could remember) took out her wand and flicked it at the board behind her. Notes filled the previously blank wall space and the room immediately set to work copying.

Before the medi-witch could speak however, a girl two rows below Ron had her hand in the air. Ron couldn't help but smile slightly at the memory of an overly eager Hermione.

"Excuse me Healer Derwent, but is it safe to have… _him_ here."

The smile melted off Ron's face instantly.

"I beg your pardon Miss Shingleton?"

"I was merely posing the idea that perhaps it would be safer if Mr. Weasley were… well…" Shingleton's voice dropped significantly and she leaned forward on her desk, "…Healer Derwent, everyone knows he's not quite right in the head."

Ron's jaw dropped. He could not believe what he was hearing. Healer Derwent was looking at Miss Shinglton in surprise, obviously thrown off by the statement. Ron was baffled. Keeping a low profile be damned, he wasn't going to just sit there.

"I can hear you, you know! And I am not bloody _mental_. What the hell gave you that idea?"

The young witch looked up at Ron with a wide and horribly fake smile, before turning her attention back to Derwent as though Ron hadn't even spoken. She began to whisper to the Healer, who did not appear to be impressed. The class had begun to mutter and whisper once again and it took Ron a moment to realize his mouth was still hanging open. He promptly shut it and glanced around in an attempt to find someone who wasn't gawking at him or awkwardly avoiding him.

At last, his eyes rested on Padma, who was looking up at him in amusement. She smirked when Ron caught her eye and inclined her head slightly towards Shingleton, her expression clearly identifying who the mental one was in her opinion.

Ron smirked and shook his head. He was really glad that Padma didn't hold grudges. After the way he and Harry had treated the Patil's at the Yule Ball, he really wouldn't have blamed Padma a bit if she had ignored him completely. This was going to be a _long_ program.

"Er, Healer Derwent?" Ron spoke up, interrupting the Shingleton girl's whispering. "Do you mind if we just move on with the lecture? I promise to keep my mental instability in check as best I can."

Healer Derwent pressed her lips together in a motion Ron recognized as the smile suppression tactic McGonagal had often used. She nodded her head to Ron and placed a hand up to silence Shingleton's immediate protests before turning her attention back to the board. A couple people snickered while others continued to stare at Ron in wide eyed fear or curiosity.

Ron, however, just sighed.

111111111111111111

"Professor?"

"In the kitchen Harry! Come on back."

Harry trudged through the hall of Grimauld Place and headed towards the kitchen. After the war, Lupin had taken up residence at the Black home, at Harry's insistence, so that Lupin would have a place to stay until he could find some work. The place wasn't nearly as dreary as it once had been, but it couldn't really be called homey either.

Harry had to grin as he walked past what was once the portrait of Mrs. Black. With the wolfsbane potion, Lupin was free to roam the house at will without harming himself or anyone else while he was transformed. Apparently a permanent sticking charm was no match for werewolf claws.

"Have a seat Harry. Merlin, you look exhausted! Everything alright?"

Harry sank into one of the dinning room chairs and gave Lupin a weak smile. The werewolf seemed awfully chipper, a rare thing for the former Defense teacher, and Harry felt guilty for not being a bit more enthusiastic guest.

"I'm alright professor, just tired. You seem all smiles though."

Lupin set a tray of sandwiches down on the table and gestured for Harry to help himself. Harry gave him a questioning look and took a sandwich. Lupin laughed and set down his glass.

"Sorry Harry; perhaps I should explain myself?"

"Uh, please," Harry asked, bewildered.

Lupin gave him a toothy grin and waited for Harry to finish chewing his bite of sandwich. It was only natural that Lupin would become Harry's father figure after Sirius' death. Neither of them had ever acknowledged it formally, but Harry knew that Lupin knew. And that was enough. Harry couldn't help but feel lighter in Lupin's presence. There had been so much hurt in the werewolf's life that seeing him so excited was worth the sleep Harry was currently missing.

"We're celebrating today Harry," Remus said at last, his face and voice becoming more serious. "We're celebrating…" he said again, more softly. "James and Sirius used to talk about this day. I was always a bit more skeptical of course; I was the practical one and all. I…" Lupin paused and looked up at Harry, "Harry, I'm glad you're here to share this with me… since your father and Sirius can't be."

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded to Lupin. The pair of them had a strange understanding when it came to James and Sirius. No one could know Remus' grief and no one could know Harry's, yet the understanding was somehow deeper between the two of them. Harry waited curiously as Remus pulled a fancy looking piece of parchment out of his robes and smoothed it out flat in front of Harry.

"_This_, Harry, is a new piece of legislation, just passed this morning."

Harry looked up at Remus, his eyes dancing with the same excitement that had been in Lupin's.

"Professor, is this… is this really…"

"Legislation forbidding the discrimination of werewolves in the wizarding working environment," Lupin finished for Harry, beaming.

"Remus this is… this is fantastic!"

"It is," Lupin agreed, "I was in shock over it at first. People always talk about these things, but they never seem to happen. But… well here it is."

Harry continued to grin as he read the piece of parchment over, assuring himself it was real. He knew how huge this was for Lupin, and for the werewolf community in general.

"This never would have happened without you Professor."

"How do you figure that one?" Lupin asked.

Harry just shook his head at Lupin's modesty. Then again, Harry behaved the same way when it came to Voldemort.

"It's not everyday a werewolf leads a revolt against its own kind," Harry said smugly.

Lupin laughed and shook his head.

"I hardly like to think of Greyback as my own kind Harry. He and his followers were more wolf than man."

Harry didn't comment and tried to stifle a yawn.

"You sure you're feeling alright Harry? No offence, but you really don't look well."

Harry groaned and rested his forehead on the table.

"I really am ok Remus. I'm just exhausted. We uh… we have a bit of a situation at the flat."

Lupin raised an eyebrow but waited patiently as Harry sighed and brought his head back up to look at Lupin.

"Ron was hit with a dark curse called Insomni-whats-it… something like that. Basically, he can't sleep; it's really painful, physically as well as mentally from what I can gather. I've spent every night for the past few weeks keeping him from closing his eyes—don't ask me why. The girls know about it, but they aren't strong enough to keep him pinned down at night, and he's not keen on having them around while it's happening anyway. To top it all off, he's getting sick, which according to Hermione he won't get better and he won't be able to function much and I have no idea what the bloody hell I'm going to do!"

"Whoa, easy there Harry. Slow down a bit. Ron was hit with _what_ curse?"

Harry took a deep breath and ran his hands through his messy hair. He hadn't even realized just how stressed out he was about this until now. Why he hadn't convinced Ron to let him tell someone sooner completely escaped him.

"It's called insomnia... insomnio… _insomnioto_. Macnair's doing apparently. Look I'm sorry Professor. We're supposed to be celebrating and…"

Lupin placed a hand in the air and silenced Harry.

"It's alright Harry," He said gently, "I wish you had told me sooner; _Insomnioto_ is no small matter."

"Hermione knew exactly what it was too… how do the pair of you do that?"

Lupin smiled despite himself. "We _read_, Harry. You really ought to give it a try. Now then, I don't know all that much about the curse, but I'll bet I know someone who does. Come on, let's go see what we can find out."

Harry furrowed his brow and stood up to follow Lupin out of the kitchen and towards the stairs.

"Uh, where are we going exactly?"

"We are in the ancient house of Black—notorious for their love of the dark arts; there's a portrait or two I've managed not to tear off the walls."

Harry paused on the staircase and looked up at Remus in surprise.

"Nigellus?"

"Right you are Harry; right you are."

111111111111111111111

Hermione leant over her cauldron, her face twisted in concentration as she counted down from ten before adding the contents of a small vial to the thick grey slop that had somehow come to a rolling boil inside the cauldron. Her hair was pulled up and off of her face and she blew a stray curl off her forehead as she bent to double check the flame's intensity.

"Couldn't have been anything simple, could it." Ginny observed, handing Hermione a handful of the root she had been chopping.

Ginny was a bright witch, but potion brewing was not her forte. It was too much detail and far too time consuming.

Hermione however, was of course fantastic at it. She grunted in response to Ginny's comment and continued stirring meticulously as the goo inside the cauldron turned a rich orange color.

"What exactly is this supposed to do?" Ginny asked Harry, who was at the opposite end of the table, massaging his temples.

Before he could reply, a crack from the living room alerted them to Ron's return from St. Mungo's. He marched into the kitchen and collapsed into a chair beside Harry as he lit the stove under the kettle with his wand.

"If anyone knows a trick to make that boil faster, I'll be forever in your debt," he announced.

Hermione didn't even look up from the potion, her eyes still scanning Lupin's notes next to the directions, and flicked her wand over her shoulder. The kettle instantly came to a boil and Ginny dutifully got up and poured her brother a mug of tea.

"Cheers, both of you."

"Long first day?" Ginny asked.

Ron grunted and took a deep sip of his tea. He set it down and looked up wearily at his sister.

"I'm extremely glad that we don't get the Prophet. Apparently, it's been writing that the trauma I endured has made me completely nutters—a story which a lovely girl in the Healer program seems to have taken seriously. She's a right piece of work."

Harry snickered and Ginny suppressed a smirk. It was a testament to Ron's commitment to the Healer program that he chose to complain about some girl rather than the mountains of notes he had to take.

"Padma's in the program," Ron continued, "I talked to her afterward and we're going to help each other out with the notes and the…" Ron's attention wavered as he took in the sight of Hermione standing over the cauldron. "What's she doing?" he asked, jerking his head towards the end of the table where Hermione was now furiously stirring the contents of the potion, counting under her breath.

"Brewing you a night cap," Harry answered.

Ron just looked at Harry blankly, then back at Hermione who was muttering under her breath about the size of the lacewings she was currently adding. He couldn't help but grin at her determined expression, and the fact that she had acknowledged his request to boil the water faster despite her concentration… and at the way her hair looked pinned up, and…

"I told Remus about the curse," Harry explained, brining Ron back to earth. "He had the brilliant idea to ask Phineas Nigellus about it—being caught up in the dark arts and all. This potion is all he really had to offer. You still won't be able to sleep… you still have to figure out how to throw the curse or you _will_ become 'debilitated by the curse's effects,' to quote Nigellus himself. But this potion will stop the pain and will help boost your immune system in some ways. You're stuck with the visions mate, but it'll make nights a whole lot easier from here on out."

Ron stared up at Harry, his jaw slack.

"You… huh?" he stuttered, trying to soak in the onslaught of information Harry had just given him. His head had been crammed with so much information already today he was certain that his brain was going to ooze out of his ears at any moment. He couldn't remember the last time he'd paid so much attention to anything for such a long span of time.

"Drink potion… no pain at night," Ginny simplified for him.

"It's a ruddy complicated potion," Hermione said, at long last abandoning the cauldron and sinking into the chair next to Ron. "I've made you a week's worth, once that one has set. And I'm going to abandon the whole job idea for now."

Ron, Harry, and Ginny all snapped their attention to Hermione in surprise. She had mentioned applying for a part time job at Flourish Blotts ages ago; they had assumed that she was just waiting until Ron and Harry had started their own activities before requesting an interview.

"Why would you do that?" Ron asked, not sure he was going to like the answer.

Hermione closed her eyes briefly and then opened them to look directly at Ron.

"Ron… I know you're alright at the moment, but you're already sick. I don't think any of you really realize what this curse does to you."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, not liking Hermione's tone at all.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "Debilitated is the perfect word for it. Without sleep, you really won't be able to function much. You're… you're going to get really sick Ron. This potion will help—you won't die or anything. Until you can throw the curse though… it… it could get pretty bad. I figured I may as well not work for now… I can go to your healer classes for you so I can tutor you here… I could…"

Ron cut Hermione off by gently squeezing her hand. She looked up at him, the worry swimming behind her eyes.

"It's going to be ok 'Mione. Like you said, I'm not going to die or anything like that. You don't have to worry so much."

Hermione kept her mouth closed and nodded, lacing her fingers with Ron's.

"Well," Ginny said, breaking the heavy silence, "I don't feel like cooking, Hermione has spent all day brewing potions, and I'm not about to let Harry in the kitchen. I say either Ron cooks, or we go out."

Ron grinned at his sister while Harry pretended to be offended.

"I've got a better idea Ginny," Hermione replied, "Let's go to your mother's."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "I couldn't even get off my arse to make tea, so there's no chance I'm going to cook, and mum loves when we're around. Reminds her we're safe and sound and have all our body parts attached."

"I'll floo her to give warning," Ginny said, "Best bottle that last batch Hermione, before it simmers too long."

Hermione rushed to her cauldron and immediately began to ladle portions of the now fluorescent green potion into carefully measured flasks.

"I um… I don't suppose there's anyway we can _avoid_ telling my mother about the curse… please?"

Harry laughed and stood up from the table to clap Ron on the shoulder.

"Wouldn't dream of telling her, mate. You'd have to be _mental_."

"Shove off Harry."

Harry just grinned while Hermione thrust a flask the violent green potion under Ron's nose. He cringed and took it grudgingly from her hand.

"Bottoms up then," he said, bracing himself before downing the potion.

Ron's eyes widened as he swallowed. He turned to look at Hermione, utterly astounded, and then turned to Harry. Harry arched an eyebrow in confusion and studied Hermione's smug expression.

"She bloody well did it Harry," Ron said in amazement.

Harry just continued to look at Ron as though he was indeed mental.

"That potion," Ron said, pointing at the line of flasks along the table, "tasted fan-freaking-tastic!"

Harry blanched and looked up at Hermione with a mixture of admiration and disgust.

"You… you little know-it-all!" he said indignantly.

Hermione just flashed him a triumphant smile, flicked a stray curl out of her face, and strode out of the kitchen.

* * *

**A/N:** If anyone has any suggestions and/or requests for flashback scenes, feel free to let me know. I can't promise I'll come up with anything, but I could really use the input as I don't have an endless supply of ideas of my own. I'm thinking I'll start throwing in some flashbacks about other characters in general (like Ginny and the Order and such... perhaps even Malfoy). Anyway, just feel free to leave some ideas.

**Please Review :-) **And as always, thank you to those of you who reviewed last chapter.

**Anon. Reviewers:**

Mel- Thanks as always for your review. My suite-mates are huge Grey's Anatomy fans lol. I on the other hand can never seem to keep track of who slept with who. Anyway, I hope I can pull off the Healer training stuff... I'm not sure it will be what people expect it to be... but it'll get ther eventually I think...

Carol- Well thanks! Every author wants to make the reader cry! Yes, it's morbid and twisted... but seriously... if you can invoke enough to get someone to cry at paper, (er... or computer screen in this case) then you must have done something right. Thank you so much for the review.

Thank you also to elkat.


	11. Phantom Pains

**A/N:** This is just shy of my goal of updating at least once a week. I was on spring break, so my apologies for not replying to reviews yet. I'll get to that soon as I can. Thank you so much for the feedback (particularly about my mispelling Voldemort... gah!) Also, the next two weeks are really hectic for me as I'm involved with the school opera (_The Mikado_), so I apologize in advance if I fall short of my goal of once a week updates. Anyway, without further rambling...

* * *

**Chapter 10: Phantom Pain**

_Harry stared out at the vast field that extended out past the Weasley's backyard. He had the strongest urge to just run, flat out, until he reached the horizon. He wanted to just flee and keep on going until his entire body was numb. The field looked ready for him—beckoning him to come and be swallowed up by the vast space of sky and ground._

_He wished he could. _

_Harry closed his eyes, allowing the subtle summer breeze to play across his face. _

"_Harry? What are you doing here?"_

_Harry jumped slightly and spun around to face Hermione. She looked beautiful, standing in her new dress robes and her hair smoothed into soft tame curls. Ginny had even convinced her to put on a little make up. It was, after all, a wedding._

"_Hey Hermione," Harry said softly, his voice betraying his confident stance. _

_He gave up, knowing Hermione would never buy it, and slumped to a posture that more accurately fit his mood._

"_Is… is everything alright? You seemed to be having so much fun before…"_

_Harry nodded mutely and leaned heavily on the fence railing separating the edge of the Weasley's property from the open land beyond it. The sounds of laughter and faint music were just audible from the wedding reception. _

_He had indeed been having fun. He had been laughing at a table with Tonks and Lupin, mercilessly teasing Ron about his lack of nerve to ask Hermione to dance, casting nervous glances of his own at Ginny (who looked exquisite in her bridesmaid gown). _

_It was hard though, to keep having fun when you kept remembering it was all going to end soon. It was hard knowing that if he failed, all that laughter would be gone. _

_There were moments when it struck Harry just how real the prophecy was. He knew it was either him or Voldemort. He knew he would want to avenge his parents and Sirius even if the prophecy never existed. But he had only just realized the true gravity of the situation as it related to the rest of the world. It had fallen on top of him like a sack of dung bombs. It had been said a million times, but it never quite registered for Harry before: _

_The fate of the Wizarding World rested on his shoulders, and his alone._

_Harry may be choosing to walk into battle, head held high, but that didn't mean he wanted the entire world to be watching him do it. He didn't want to be the reason everyone else suffered._

"_Harry?"_

_Harry looked over at Hermione once again. She had moved closer to him, a look of concern clouding her features. Harry felt his stomach lurch. For the hundredth time that day the statement "If I don't defeat Voldemort," went through his head._

_If I don't defeat Voldemort, Ron and Hermione will never get the chance to be together like they want to be. Ron will never again be able to see Hermione looking this stunning._

_It was too much. _

"_Hermione… I… I can't do this!"_

_Hermione blinked in surprise and put a hand tentatively on Harry's shoulder._

"_Can't do what Harry?"_

"_This!" Harry responded, suddenly sounding quite frantic as he waved his arms around. "I can't save the whole damn world Hermione! I can't even do well on a potions essay! I'm just a… a nobody Hermione! I mean, people have been saying things about me for years and years and I just… I never really got it before but… but they expect me to save them! I… I can't do that! I… I…Dumbledore left me… everyone left me. I can't… I…"_

_Harry trailed off, his breathing uneven. Hermione watched as her brave best friend deflated in front of her. Harry had always been so strong, always the hero. It had never occurred to her that perhaps Harry didn't realize the magnitude of what he had done over the past 6 years. He suddenly looked like a scared little boy, and Hermione didn't blame him._

"_Harry," she said slowly, gently forcing him to face her directly. "Yes. You can. You are not alone Harry, do you understand me? You are not doing this alone!"_

_Harry stared up at Hermione, calming down slightly, and chewed his bottom lip._

"_Hermione I… I'm terrified," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. _

_Hermione laced her arms around Harry's neck and he instantly buried his face in her hair, shocking himself slightly but too desperate for the comfort to care._

"_Me too Harry… me too."_

11111111111111111111

The days went by slowly for the trio. Things were improving in some respects; it didn't feel foreign to sleep in a bed; they ate full portions at meals; it wasn't so strange to meet up with their old school friends from time to time. The thing was, it was a bit difficult to really enjoy the day when you knew what was in store for you during the night.

Harry began training with Puddlemere, Ginny kept busy at the ministry, Fred and George ran the shop, Seamus ran his pub, Neville continued his internship at the UK's wizarding greenhouses, but Ron…

No one's days were quite as long as Ron's. He had kept up with the Healer program for as long as he could, but inevitably, his presence there was useless. He was getting sicker. He knew it. Harry knew it. Hermione knew it. He had spoken to the chief Healer and had been given permission to no longer attend classes without being withdrawn from the program. He would have to sit an exam once he returned—but if he could pass that then there shouldn't be a problem with his returning to the program once he was well.

For awhile, Hermione had gone in his place in order to help tutor her ailing boyfriend. It became apparent though, that it was no longer a good idea to leave Ron alone at the flat all day. It was too difficult to remain awake when he was alone, and he was getting sicker by the day. Padma had agreed to swing by the flat after classes and drop off a copy of her notes for Ron so that he wouldn't be too lost, and Hermione could stay with him during the day—an arrangement that drove Ron mad but really couldn't be argued with.

The one and only bright side of the situation seemed to be that Ron studied more than he ever had in his entire existence. He really didn't have anything else to do, so whenever he was awake enough, Ron would read, read, and read some more. Hermione had a difficult time hiding her elation.

To Ron however, the fact that he was actually feeling confident in a subject for the first time since he'd learned to play chess, wasn't worth the price he was paying for it. Without the pain, Ron could actually fall asleep—if one could really call it that. The terrorizing visions plagued him whenever he fell out of consciousness. He'd fall into a haunted, fevered sleep (not exactly restful) and he still refused to tell anyone what he saw when he closed his eyes.

That was where his friends came in. Every single night, Harry, Hermione, or Ginny would stay up with Ron, waking him when his anguished screams of protest of his nightmares were obviously becoming more intense. As much as he begged them, they knew they had to let him sleep at least a little bit. Ron swore it wasn't worth the sleep, but there was little else they could do. His body was going to get physical rest any way it could, even if it meant his emotional and mental well-being was compromised.

It was Ginny's turn on the rotation tonight. She had managed to rework her schedule a bit so that she could come in to the office later than usual on certain days. She could at least get a few hours sleep before work that way.

Ron was propped up in his bed, text books littering the floor next to him and one opened up on his lap. He was having what could be called a "good" night. He wasn't so feverish and he'd lied to Hermione about finishing his soup so he didn't feel quite so nauseous. He still hated the fact that the girls were around when he was so ill, but as Ginny had quite frankly informed him—he had to get over it.

"Forget it," Ron announced, snapping his book on _Theories of Magical Incision Methods_ closed and tossing it aside, "I'm going to go cross eyed."

Ginny glanced up from the paper work she was going over for the office and shifted from her perch at the foot of Ron's bed.

"Fancy going walkabout then?"

Ron just rolled his eyes at his sister who smiled sympathetically.

"I have to admit though Ron, I'm really impressed with all the studying. I never thought the day would come."

Ron just sighed and leaned into his headboard.

"Me neither. But I can't look at it anymore. I'm afraid you're going to have to entertain me instead."

Ginny smirked and looked up from her paper work once more. "Oh am I? I thought my job was just to wake you up from time to time."

"Or to keep me from falling asleep at all. I'd much prefer that."

Ginny rolled up her parchment, not bothering to organize any of it first, and set it aside.

"Fine. But I'm not going to sing for you like Harry does."

Ron snorted but regretted it as he began to cough violently. He held his hand up to Ginny who had made a move towards him, signaling for her not to bother. Once the coughing calmed down, he settled himself back into his headboard and took a few deep breaths.

"He only did it once," Ron said, ignoring Ginny's concerned look and plowing on as though nothing had happened, "I wanted to kill him for it. It was so bloody hilarious and it hurt so damn much to laugh. Hermione suggested we take him to a muggle karaoke bar and get him completely smashed some time. It'd be brilliant entertainment. _Hermione_ suggested this!"

Ginny grinned at the mental image of Harry singing on top of some table somewhere in muggle London. She didn't find it at all surprising that Hermione would suggest such an idea. But then again, the boys knew Hermione as the girl who found expulsion more terrifying than death. Ginny however, had seen Hermione in the girl's dorms during late night chats. She wasn't nearly as uptight as people perceived her. Ginny had a feeling that Hermione rather liked being viewed that way. It made it far more fun to be mischievous when no one expected it of you. Ginny figured having two guys as her best friends had probably loosened her up quite a bit.

Ron and Harry knew this about Hermione of course, but she still managed to catch them off guard from time to time. Ron had to suppress a smile at the memory of a more recent time Hermione had caught him off guard, before he'd become quite so sick. He was just glad his hair was long enough to cover certain parts of his neck…

"Speaking of Harry," Ron said suddenly, needing to remove _that_ thought from his head while in front of Ginny, and interrupting his sister's own musings, "Have you two… you know, talked much lately?"

"I talk to him everyday," Ginny said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"You know what I meant Gin."

Ginny pursed her lips and leaned back into Ron's footboard. Since their conversation after the trial things had been much more comfortable between Ginny and Harry, but that didn't mean they ever discussed anything of substance.

"Um… we're civil. We're polite. We're friendly. That's the end of it really."

Ron tilted his head and frowned slightly. He never really talked to Harry about his relationship with Ginny; he didn't like to analyze it. Harry was his best mate, and therefore he and Harry discussed things about the opposite sex in a manner you would _expect _two blokes to discuss the opposite sex, despite the fact that both of their experiences were limited in that area. Ron had a very difficult time deciding how he felt knowing some of the things Harry brought up in these conversations were about his baby sister, despite the fact that Harry always purposely left out her name.

Overall, he had tried to ignore Harry and Ginny with respects to their relationship. He had realized though, that Ginny and Harry weren't just a fling that happened once. Ginny and Harry weren't like he and Lavender had been. Resolving himself to be a mature older brother, Ron braced himself for whatever Ginny may have to say.

"Er… Ginny… can I um… can I ask you something?"

Ginny shrugged and nodded; she had expected this conversation from Ron eventually. She actually thought it was highly amusing to watch him get so worked up over having to talk to her about 'serious' things, but she supposed he really hadn't had as much practice as the rest of her brothers. Ron was only the older brother to her—the rest of the Weasley's had a few extra younger siblings to practice on.

"How… how do you really feel about Harry? I mean, how serious were you when you dated?"

Ginny bit her lip. Had she not wanted to avoid the topic, she would have been impressed with how smoothly Ron had been able to get those questions out.

"Harry and I…" Ginny stopped and took a deep breath. "Ron, do you really want to know this? I mean, I don't mind telling you, but you aren't going to go all awkward on me or anything are you? Or on Harry?"

Ron shook his head.

"I promise Gin. I like to think I've grown up at least a little bit."

Ginny nodded, satisfied for the moment, and tried to determine the best way to explain her and Harry's relationship to Ron.

"Ron, I don't want to admit how I feel about Harry because Harry needs to figure it out first. I mean… he needs to figure out what he feels for me without any outside influence."

Ron blinked at his sister.

"Uh, could you try that again please Gin? You _are_ talking to a bloke that's been deprived of sleep for oh, I don't know, couple weeks now."

Ginny sighed and propped her elbows on her knees before resting her chin in her hands.

"I love him Ron."

Ron blanched slightly. He may not have understood what Ginny was trying to say before, but he knew that _that_ most certainly wasn't it."

"Beg your pardon?"

Ginny groaned and flopped over on the mattress, narrowly missing Ron's feet.

"Be serious Ron. Would I have stayed single for the past two and a half years if I didn't?"

"Well… I don't know. I just… you love him Gin? Like for real? As in you're _in_ love with Harry Potter, my best mate?"

Ginny pulled herself back up and gave Ron a stern look.

"Ok, I get it. I just… Gin… I don't even know what to say. Have you told him? I would have thought he'd fill me in on something like that…"

"Course I haven't told him you idiot. That's what I'm trying to explain to you. If I told Harry how I felt, he'd feel obligated to either say he loved me back because he feels like he's _supposed_ to, or he'd turn tail and run because he's terrified of either A. hurting me, or B. me hurting him. You know how he is Ron. To be honest I don't think he's nearly as afraid of hurting me as he always claims. He says he thinks he's not worthy of me or something lame like that, but really I think he's more afraid of admitting to feeling something for me only to have me bail out on him. He's never convinced that his feelings are actually important, so he just tries to wall himself up."

Ron just sat for a moment, mulling over what Ginny had said.

"He's…" Ron began slowly, "He's not nearly as together as he seems, is he."

It wasn't a question. Ron and Ginny both knew this. It was just easier on all of them a lot of the time if they let Harry think he had them all fooled. That was just part of who Harry was. He wasn't in any danger or anything of that nature, they all knew that, but it was still difficult to just watch the inner battled within Harry take place silently. They had all just come to realize that they had to let him have those battles.

"He's actually a lot better," Ginny answered softly, "We had a really interesting discussion about it after the trial a few weeks ago. He's… he's starting to really work things out… I think."

At the back of her mind though, Ginny couldn't help but feel a flare of anger with Harry. He had promised her, during their discussion after the trial all those weeks ago, that he wasn't trying to figure this out alone. However, if Ron didn't know anything about it, then who the heck was he clueing in? She doubted it was Hermione. The bookworm was far too stressed out about Ron; Harry would have felt too guilty burdening her with his 'emotional baggage,' as she was certain he considered it.

Ron nodded and sank a little further into his pillows. Ginny raised an eyebrow at her brother and then sighed.

"You're fever's up again isn't it?"

Ron just closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness passed over him. He instantly snapped them open again, letting out a gasp and gripping his fingers into his hair.

"Shit," he panted. A fever and the visions at the same time was never a fun experience, and it looked like he was going to have a go at it tonight.

Ginny moved over to stand next to Ron and gently brushed his fiery hair off of his forehead.

"Try and relax," she told him sympathetically.

Ron just looked up at her weakly and tried to smile. It ended up turning into more of a grimace as he began to shiver violently. Giving up on acting strong, Ron curled onto his side as his temperature spiked, and allowed Ginny to do her best to bring it down.

111111111111111111111111

"Oh for heaven's sake Pig!"

Harry irritably snatched the owl away from Ron's head and slammed his fist firmly onto the table with pig wrapped firmly in his fingers.

"Now look here you ruddy little owl. Your master is ill and the last thing he needs is for you to pester him. Look at Hedwig; she's perfectly dignified when she delivers letters. How bout you take a page out of her book huh?"

Hermione suppressed a smirk as Harry continued to berate Pig, who continued to just stare at Harry.

"My hero," Ron muttered from behind his hands. It was rare that Ron joined them for breakfast anymore, but as the previous night had not been so bad, he convinced Ginny he was well enough to take the lift two floors down to the girls' flat.

Harry gave up and released Pig, who was instantly flying around the room again, though thankfully he left Ron alone this time.

"I don't think I can eat this," Ron muttered, picking at his plain toast weakly.

"Try," Hermione pleaded. "I know you lied about the soup last night, so please eat it."

Ron looked apologetically at Hermione, but she didn't look angry. She rarely looked anything other than stressed out as of late actually, and Ron hated himself for it. He tried to sit up straighter but regretted it as soon as the smell of Harry's eggs hit his nostrils. He slumped back down and swallowed thickly, trying to suppress his nausea.

"You guys…"

The trio looked up at Ginny who was holding a letter from a vaguely familiar owl in one hand and a clipping from what appeared to be the _Prophet_ in the other. She placed the letter down on the table for the trio to read while her eyes began to scan the news clipping.

_Ginny, Ron Her… You lot,_

_Hope all is well with you guys, or as well as it can be I suppose. Just thought I'd give you an update, seeing as I doubt you receive the _Prophet_, or even acknowledge its existence for that matter. Turns out that Dennis Creevy was hit with some sort of spell that the death eaters had been developing… or some bull shit like that. The article explains it much better. Luna assures me that for once the _Prophet_ reported something accurately (which Collin confirmed after I spoke with Luna, since we all know what type of reporting Luna considers accurate). Collin says Dennis is taking the news as well as can be expected. Bit rough on him regardless. Took them bloody ages just to figure out what was wrong with him._

_Anyway, I promise to redeem this letter with some better news next time. Hope Ron is doing alright. We could really use a decent Keeper for our Sunday quiditch scrimmages, so get yourself better mate. _

_Take care,_

_Seamus_

The trio looked up at Ginny whose mouth was hanging open at the news clipping in her hand. Her nose wrinkled and she looked up at her friends in disgust.

"This is just… this is _foul._"

"What's it say Gin?" Ron asked impatiently.

Ginny curled her lip in distaste and began to scan the paper once again.

"Says here that a new case at St. Mungo's has revealed that an under developed spell has caused the _sterilization _of Dennis Creevy, younger brother of Order of the Pheonix member, Collin Creevy."

Ron's eyebrows shot up into his hairline and Harry whipped his head up from Seamus' letter so fast that his neck cricked.

"_What?"_

"I… I think I'm going to be sick," Ginny said, putting her hand on the back of a chair as her face went slightly green.

Harry put an arm out to steady her as she took a few deep breaths, handing the article to Ron to finish reading.

"It says the spell was apparently supposed to be used on all… on all muggle borns," Ron said, scanning the article and muttering to himself, occasionally reading some of it out loud. "Symptoms start off fairly discreetly and include pain in the effected areas…"

"Explains why Seamus said it was a bit of a _personal_ medical issue," Harry offered, his expression matching Ginny's look of disgust.

"…affects tissues of reproductive organs… no visible scars… incantation unknown… permanence uncertain due to lack of study and underdevelopment of actual curse… Creevy prognosis appears permanent… all muggle borns encouraged to be tested…" Ron looked up and shook his head, "Repulsive. Slimy, obscene, disgusting…"

"Agreed," Harry said, cutting him off. "I wonder if they can question some of the imprisoned death eaters about it. What do you think Hermione?"

Hermione mechanically turned her head towards Harry. She had barely heard him over the blood roaring in her ears. He sounded far away and distant and she had to concentrate on his mouth to make sure she understood what he was saying. She answered him, not even certain of what it was she actually said. She was only vaguely aware of Ron leaving the table quickly, the combination of food, smells, and the contents of the horrid article negating his attempt to hold down his nausea.

The voices blurred around her as Ginny and Harry prepared to leave. She could sense Harry squeeze her shoulder comfortingly as he told her he would pick something up for dinner on the way home from practice. She nodded, again mechanically, and headed towards her room. It was as though she was watching everything happen to her from some floating vantage point.

Once she had closed the door of her bedroom, Hermione pressed her hand against the pain in her lower abdomen, considering for the first time that perhaps the pain wasn't being caused by her stomach at all. She leaned heavily against the door. She had to get a grip. Ron was going to come out of the bathroom in a moment and she'd have to convince him to eat. She couldn't have been hit with the same spell as Dennis. She had already looked into the pain she felt; it was a side effect of the _cruciatus,_ she reminded herself firmly.

The only reason she never brought up the constant pain was because she knew all of them had their own side effects from the war. Harry suffered from the occasional migraine, which no Healer could really pinpoint the cause of. Ron had a slight limp which he hid quite well, but the trio knew it was there. And Hermione had occasional phantom pains from the _cruciatus_ in her lower abdomen. It wasn't that big of a deal, nor was it that uncommon.

Hermione ran a shaking hand through her hair and shook her head. Taking a deep breath, she stood up straight and shook all thoughts of the spell out of her head. She couldn't have been hit with it. It just wasn't possible.

Bracing herself, Hermione stepped out of her room and found Ron leaning heavily against the wall, out of breath and obviously in an attempt to get back to the table before Hermione returned. He straightened up at the sight of her, but Hermione could still see how much he was relying on the wall to hold him up. Honestly, who was he kidding?

1111111111111111111

Harry sighed as he tightened his towel and trudged towards his locker. He had to admit, getting paid to play quiditch was fantastic. The rigorous work outs were actually quite a welcomed distraction from all the stress he felt, and he couldn't deny how great it felt to be flying over a pitch rather than a death eater camp.

"Oi! Potter!"

Harry spun around at the sound of Oliver's voice, nearly falling over as he hopped up and down to get his trousers on properly.

Oliver headed towards him, flinging a towel over his bare shoulder and shoving past Puddlemere's beaters as he made his way to Harry.

"So," Oliver announced, taking a seat along the bench as Harry pulled his shirt over his head, "Is it your night to stay up with Weasley?"

Harry appeared from inside of his shirt and fumbled around for his glasses, which Wood dutifully handed over to him.

"Er, no it's Hermione's. I'm tomorrow night… I think. I don't even know anymore," Harry said with a sigh.

Ron probably didn't appreciate the fact that pretty much everyone who knew him was aware of his current health (with the exception of his mother—no one had been quite daft enough to tell her). He had kept his mouth shut though. He wasn't going to force his friends to keep the situation hidden. Hermione and Ginny had laid a heavy enough guilt trip on him after he'd tried to keep it from them the first time around.

Oliver frowned and looked up at Harry sympathetically before shaking his head and standing up to face Harry properly.

"Well I think it's high time you got out of that flat—let loose a little, yeah?"

Harry just looked at him, clearly not amused.

"Oh come on Potter. The team is going out tonight—come with us. It'll be good for you. I promise not to let them get you drunk," Wood paused and then shuddered slightly, "I know that's something _I _certainly don't want to witness again."

Harry rolled his eyes and shoved his former captain back down onto the bench.

"I swear, the _one_ time I get drunk and the whole bloody school is there to witness it."

"It will go down in Hogwarts history," Oliver said solemnly, earning another shove from Harry.

"Seriously though Wood, I don't know. Hermione is so stressed out, and…"

"Oh and you aren't Harry? Come on, we talked about this. You're wound so tight it's a wonder you don't walk in circles!"

Harry sighed and studied Oliver. He'd actually become fairly close to the Keeper since signing with the team. He never seemed to mind Harry's brooding, and as a result Harry had revealed a considerable amount of things to Oliver about the current state of his life. It was nice not having to feel like a burden. Oliver obviously cared about what Harry had to say, but he never made a big deal about it or fussed over him. He just listened and offered the occasional insight. Harry didn't really have to go into detail and he rather liked that.

"You swear you won't let them get me drunk? I'm the youngest one here and so you know they're going to try and pick on me…"

Wood grinned and pumped his fist into the air triumphantly.

"I promise! I'll swing by your flat and we'll floo from your place. That way you can't back out. The pub we go to prefers we don't apparate. It's much easier to splinch yourself if your drunk."

Harry wrinkled his nose and shook his head at Oliver. He could only imagine what a rowdy bunch the team was when they weren't on the pitch. He hadn't really spent much time with his teammates outside of practices.

"By the way," Wood added suddenly, "Nice play out there today. I must admit I was a bit surprised when Arden beat you to the snitch though…"

"Oh? Well… yeah, I mean, he's a great player." Harry replied, suddenly very interested in fishing around his locker for his deodorant.

Oliver smirked. "That's what I thought. You don't have to worry about showing him up Harry; you _are_ replacing him after all."

Harry turned back to Oliver, deodorant in hand, but then realized that he didn't have anything to say to Wood's comment. Harry was a reserve player at the moment. The team's current Seeker, Mathew Arden, was retiring at the end of the season. Harry would take his place as starting Seeker at the beginning of the new season in September. Truth be told, Harry was a better Seeker. He was younger and more agile—just as Arden had been in his prime. Harry felt slightly guilty for performing better than him. He didn't want to take the man's pride from him just before his retirement from the sport.

Oliver laughed and shook his head at Harry. "You're such a noble prat. Anyway, I'll see you 'round 7 alright?"

Harry nodded, and Wood headed off to his locker to finish getting changed. Harry tried to shake the guilt that was already creeping into the back of his mind. He could practically hear Ron shouting at him not to be so stupid, and that his being sick shouldn't prevent Harry from going out, but it did little to dissipate the feeling.

"Yeesh Potter," he muttered to himself, "…just do something for yourself for once. There's no harm in it. No one is going to hate you for it."

With yet another sigh, Harry double checked that his firebolt was safely locked away with the rest of the teams' broomsticks and apparated away.

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Please Review :-)


	12. What Do You See?

**A/N:** So I missed my goal... but for those of you familiar with the theatre term "hell week," I'm sure you understand. The opera opens this weekend though and looks great!!! Anyway, I just want to say thank you sooo much to those who reviewed and I WILL respond when I get a moment to breathe (which means after the opera... it has basically consumed my life).

Also there's a slight language warning in this chapter. The story IS rated teen so I suppose I don't need to say that but as I don't usually include such language in my writing I figured I'd give a heads up and spare any complaints later in case it chatches someone off guard.

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**Chapter 11. What Do You See?**

_Harry watched carefully as the distant figure made its way towards him. He could just barely make out the signature bushy hair in the dim dusk lighting. This was the most frustrating part about when they had to separate. Even though he was almost certain that it was Hermione walking towards him, they would still have to exchange trivial information to prove they were both who they appeared they were. It was annoying and time consuming, but there was nothing that could be done about it._

_Harry remained leaned up against the tree and waited for Hermione to get within earshot._

"_I turned myself into a cat 2nd year. And really, I think it's stupid to have to bring that up every time we reunite," Hermione muttered to him._

_Harry frowned at her and shook his head. _

"_Keep your voice down," he scolded, "and you'll have to do better than that."_

"_There's no point in keeping my voice down. We're not even within boundaries," Hermione replied with a sigh. "And Rita Skeeter is animagus… a beetle."_

"_So nothing then?" Harry asked, trying (and failing) to hide his disappointment._

_Harry grit his teeth as Hermione nodded in confirmation. It had been weeks since they'd even heard a whisper about a death eater, much less actually seen one, and all three of them were beginning to get a little edgy. So far they had only managed to collect Hufflepuff's cup, and that had been by sheer luck. _

"_Where's Ron?" Hermione asked suddenly, breaking Harry from his frustrated internal diatribe._

"_He… what time is it?" Harry asked, white hot fear gripping at his insides. He hated getting so panicky, but he couldn't help himself sometimes. Rational thought tended to get left behind when you were sleep deprived and constantly watching your back (or healing it; it wasn't like death eater's had qualms about hexing someone when their back was turned)._

_Hermione checked her watch and looked up at Harry, trying to keep her features calm. She knew of Harry's increasing anxiety issues but knew now was not the time to bring them up. _

"_Maybe he just…" _

_But Hermione never got to finish. All the air rushed abruptly from her lungs and her eyes locked onto something just over Harry's shoulder. Instinctively, she reached out a hand and grabbed Harry's arm in panic. This did nothing for Harry's nerves as she spun around and aimed his wand behind him. _

_To his horror, he was met not with a silver mask and pointed cloak hood, but the silvery, iridescent form of a horse in armor—Ron's patronus. _

_Hermione and Harry stared in silence as the horse cantered up to them and inclined its head slightly in greeting. It stood in majestic silence and gazed at the pair of teenagers, who were currently rooted to the ground—willing whatever message the silver creature had for them to be a positive one. It had taken Ron ages to figure out how to conjure a patronus, but when he finally managed it the beast was quite something to behold. It mirrored a chess knight and held the same impressive presence as Prongs. _

_Beautiful or not, having to send a message via patronus was probably not a good sign._

"_I was rescued by your master in a flying car when we were 12 years old," Harry said, fighting to keep the urgency out of his voice._

_After remembering that Tonk's message had been intercepted by Snape in 6th year, they had agreed it wouldn't be safe to use a patronus as a messenger. It wasn't until Lupin had explained how to be sure only specific people received the messages that the trio had agreed to use them if necessary. It hadn't been… until now._

_The horse again inclined its head and without making a sound, relayed its message. Harry imagined that it was much like telepathy would work. A clear and indistinctive voice suddenly filled his mind, rather than his ears and, judging from the look on her face, it filled Hermione's as well._

"_My master is unable to reach you and requests you come at once."_

"_Where was his area?" Harry asked Hermione the instant the horse cantered away and disappeared into hazy silver smoke._

"_Five miles south," Hermione responded, and immediately apparated, Harry only a fraction of a second behind her._

_Ron lay propped up against a tree, his breathing shallow, when his friends arrived with a crack._

"_Ron! Merlin, Ron are you ok?! What happened?"_

_Ron twisted his face in pain before he was able to properly look at Hermione and Harry peering down at him._

"_Who are you?" he asked, his voice strained._

"_Arg!" Harry roared, "I'm me you idiot! Now answer Hermione; are you ok?"_

_Ron looked up at Harry in defiance, despite the pain on his face._

"_Dumbledore was the card; Hermione polyjuiced herself into a cat; now are you ok damnit?!"_

"'_S my leg," Ron said weakly. "I'm ok, but I can't move."_

"_Thank God," Hermione breathed, "When I saw the horse I nearly…"_

"_Yeah I know," Ron interrupted, "I couldn't think of anything else though. We really…" Ron stopped and inhaled sharply as fresh pain shot through him, "We really need to be less panicky. Seriously."_

"_We'll figure that out later," Harry muttered, not wanting to deal with that right now. Watching 'Ron' die (or at least thinking he had) was hell on his nerves. "Are we safe here?"_

_Ron nodded and Harry didn't inquire further._

"_Bone breaking curse… to my left femur," Ron began to explain as Harry and Hermione began to maneuver around Ron in preparation to examine the wound. "… hit it over and over again… don't know... don't know how many breaks. Hit my right ankle too. Bloody fantastic aim… the ruddy death eater creep…"_

"_Which one's the femur?" Harry murmured._

_Hermione tapped Harry's thigh with her wand in answer before turning it back to Ron's trousers and cutting the fabric. _

"_He did something… something else to my hip though, the left one again," Ron continued on, his breathing becoming more and more labored. Harry knew things were bad when Ron didn't even protest Hermione removing his trousers to see his leg and hip. "…Shattered it, I think. I- I don't think we can mend it. Not here anyway."_

_Ron's eyes slid shut and Harry grabbed him by the shoulders as his head rolled forward. _

"_Ron!"_

_Ron's head snapped back up and he looked weakly up at Harry. _

"_Stay with us mate, we have to get you to St. Mungo's."_

_Ron nodded, sort of, and wheezed, "It hurts."_

_Harry gave Ron's shoulder an encouraging squeeze and nodded. "I know. We'll get you out of here. Don't worry." _

"_We have to take him side-along," Hermione muttered to Harry as she brushed stray tears away with her shoulder. "We have to get him up."_

_Harry and Hermione each put one of Ron's arms across their shoulders and counted to three, earning a stream of swearing from the red head as they hauled him to his feet. When he was upright, Ron didn't even bother holding back his screams as his weight fell on his hip. He collapsed sideways onto Harry, anything to ease the pressure on his shattered bone and torn ligaments. _

"_I'm sorry Ron," Harry said quietly, hating what he was about to do, "I'll do it as quick as I can."_

_Ron nodded, his eyes clenched shut in pain, and let go of Hermione to cling solely onto Harry. For the first time, Ron loathed that Harry was shorter than him as he tried to keep most of his weight on the smaller teen. _

_Gritting his teeth, Harry concentrated on the apparition point. They were too far away from London to go straight there. They would have to do this 5 times. As swiftly as he could, Harry shifted Ron upright and spun on the spot, disappearing with a crack. _

_Hermione stood for a moment, Ron's scream still echoing throughout the wood as she gathered herself before apparating. When they got back, she was going to learn how to make a bloody portkey. _

1111111111111111111111111111111111111111

"_Where is my_ _SON_!?"

Ginny pressed her fingers to her temple and took a deep breath. She was going to _kill _George. He had floo'd her moments ago and sheepishly told her that he had let Ron's current state slip in front of their mother. Harry was at Lupin's, and Hermione was with Ron at his flat, leaving Ginny to face Mrs. Weasley's wrath alone.

"Ginerva Weasley! Where's Ronnie!?"

Yes, George was _definitely_ going to die.

Ginny braced herself as Molly burst into the kitchen of her flat, red faced and shaking from head to foot—a tower of boiling rage.

"He's at his flat mother," Ginny said calmly, removing her hand from her temple and looking up at Mrs. Weasley with a neutral expression.

"Why didn't you tell me Ginny!? He needs proper care… he needs looking after and…"

"Mum, everything is perfectly under control. Ron is a grown man for heaven's sake! We didn't tell you because we knew you'd react exactly like this!"

Mrs. Weasley glared at her only daughter, the Weasley family expression of stubbornness etched perfectly on her features.

"He's coming to the burrow," Mrs. Weasley said flatly. "I won't have him staying here to suffer with no one to care for him."

"I beg your pardon!? What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean? What do you think we've been doing all this time, throwing wild parties?"

Molly drew herself up to her full height, and eyed Ginny dangerously.

"You watch your la…"

That was it. Ginny stood up from the table so quickly that the words died in Mrs. Weasley's throat.

"I will _not_ watch my sodding language! I am 18 years old and will say whatever I damn well please!" Ginny roared, effectively angering her already distressed mother even further.

The men of the Weasley family had always held a respectful and healthy fear of Molly Weasley. Her tongue was sharper than the twins', he temper quicker than Ron's, and her presence stronger than Charlie's. Her boys, and even her husband from time to time, had every reason to be intimidated by her.

Ginny however, was the exception. As Mrs. Weasley's only daughter, she was able to handle her mother in a way her brothers never could. She could scream right back and not be considered disrespectful; she could match her mother's blows without fear of her father intervening. The boys had always been taught to be respectful of women and fighting with their mother certainly crossed that line.

Ginny saw no such line. She was, after all, a woman.

"I do not care how old you are Ginerva," Molly said briskly, "but you are still my daughter and will do as I say. Now, I'm going to get Ron."

Ginny folded her arms across her chest and met Molly's eyes without hesitation.

"Mum, he's not going anywhere."

"Yes he is."

"No. He isn't"

"I will not have this argument with you Ginny!" Molly huffed, exasperated.

Ginny closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath.

"Mum, sit down."

Molly was about to argue again, but then seemed to realize what Ginny had said. She eyed her daughter suspiciously and slowly took a seat at the dining table. Ginny sat down across from her and met her mother's gaze, which was still fierce behind her momentary calm.

"Mum," Ginny said slowly and evenly, "Ron doesn't need you right now."

Mrs. Weasley inhaled sharply and shook her head.

"Nonsense. I'm his mother. Of course he needs me. I will not just stand by and let him suffer…"

"_Mum_. What Ron _needs _is for his mother to let him _grow up_. What Ron needs is for people to start treating him like he's a perfectly normal 20 year old wizard! Of course he needs you as his mother! But can you honestly sit there and tell me that if it was Bill, or Charlie, or anyone else suffering from this curse, that you would force them back to the Burrow? Hm?"

Mrs. Weasley stared at her daughter, her expression tense. She should have known having a daughter would be dangerous—especially having a daughter that would inevitably be able to one day hold her own against 6 brothers, never mind her parents.

"Well?" Ginny prompted.

Mrs. Weasley deflated slightly in her chair and Ginny's expression softened, knowing she'd gotten through to her.

"It's not that I don't think he's capable of living out on his own," Molly said softly.

"We know that mum. We just… we almost lost him so many times. Trust me, I understand."

Molly looked up at Ginny and smiled faintly. On the other hand, there were certainly perks to having a daughter.

"We really do have everything under control here mum. We have a rotation for the nights, and Hermione is home to tend to him during the day. It's not a permanent situation. He'll pull out of it."

Mrs. Weasley's expression darkened momentarily.

"Are you sure Hermione is capable of taking care of him all day? Maybe you could arrange for some time off? Or perhaps the twins can pop in and out. I know I could certainly come and…"

Ginny furrowed her brow at her mother in confusion.

"What are you on about? Hermione's the smartest witch we know. Why on earth would you suggest the twins over her?"

Molly waved a hand dismissively and huffed in annoyance.

"Oh I don't think so; you're explaining that one mum," Ginny demanded, still baffled at her mother's response to Hermione being Ron's primary caretaker for the time being.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and shook her head awkwardly.

"It's really quite stupid Ginny."

Ginny just sat and waited expectantly. Her mother was just as proud and stubborn as the rest of the Weasley family—but there was no way Ginny was going to let her get away with such an odd statement.

"Well it's just me mum; not like you have to explain it to Percy or something."

Mrs. Weasley looked away from Ginny's eyes and Ginny could swear her mother was blushing slightly. Ginny didn't think she had ever seen her mother blush before. The only time she was red was when she was bellowing at someone— which was quite a different shade of red indeed.

"I just… I don't like the idea of some… some _other_ woman taking care of my boys."

Ginny pressed her lips together and willed herself not to laugh. She supposed this was a legitimate issue for her mum, but she couldn't help but be entertained.

"Ah. Well… mum…"

"I know Ginny, I know. It's silly. But I just can't help it! You're my babies! I mean, does Fleur know that Bill likes the hall light to be left on, not because he's scared, but because he likes to watch the shadows it makes before he drifts off to sleep? Does Hermione know that Ron _says_ he likes his eggs sunny side up, but really he likes them over-medium? Does Fleur understand that if you don't give Bill his space after something bad happens he'll never grieve over it properly—she really seems quite suffocating sometimes. And does Angelina understand that Fred uses humor to hide _so_ many things! He really can be quite emotional and…"

"And do _you_ know," Ginny interrupted, "how to make Bill whisper in rapid French when the hall light is out? And do _you_ know how to make Fred, of all people, blush and stutter? And do _you _know how to make Ron need to comb his hair a certain way in order to hide the massive hickey just below his earlobe?"

The color instantly drained from Molly Weasley's face and her mouth was left hanging open in an expression that, had Ginny been the one wearing it, Molly would have told her was quite unladylike. It wasn't as though Ginny liked to think about her brothers' romantic lives in such a way either, but the look on her mum's face was _so_ worth it.

"_Ginerva Weasley_," Molly spluttered.

Ginny just grinned at her mother and suppressed the urge to laugh hysterically.

"Well be reasonable mum. I understand that we're your babies and all of that… but you've got to let us grow up."

Molly sighed and nodded. She knew this. She _always_ knew this. But that didn't mean she liked the idea.

"And just so you know," Ginny added, "Whenever Hermione makes breakfast, Ron always gets his eggs over-medium despite what he asks for."

Mrs. Weasley smiled slightly and shook her head.

"I'm sorry Ginny. It's just… it's so hard to watch you guys grow up."

Ginny just smiled. "There are some perks to it you know. Here, if you hang on a second I'll go put the kettle on and rummage up some biscuits. Harry isn't due back for awhile yet so you can stay and have a cup of tea with your one and only daughter."

Mrs. Weasley grinned and gave Ginny an appreciative smile as Ginny got up lit the stove.

Over an hour later, Ginny was hugging her mother goodbye before she apparated back to the burrow. Ginny had even been able to convince her to leave Ron be for now, and that she'd be sure to let him know their mother had come by to check up on him.

Before Ginny could even sit down, Charlie's voice suddenly echoed throughout the living room.

"Gin? You alive over there?"

Ginny shook her head in disbelief.

"Bloody hell," she muttered, "can't a woman have a moments peace?"

Charlie's head grinned at her from the fireplace, the green flames licking at his long hair that for once was out of its ponytail.

"Everything alright?" she asked, suddenly wondering if she should be concerned.

"What? Oh, oh yeah fine," Charlie said, "I was just flooing to check up on _you_."

Ginny shook her head in amazement.

"Does nobody in this family believe that the two youngest Weasley's are capable of taking care of themselves? Or shall Ron and I go have a few more run ins with Voldermort?"

Charlie laughed and shook his head, causing a few ashes to spill onto the carpet.

"Pipe down Gin. I'm only checking because I heard mum found out about Ron's curse. I wanted to make sure she didn't go _completely_ volcanic on you. I have no doubt you could face Voldie without a problem—our mother is an entirely different story however."

Ginny smirked and put her hands on her hips.

"It just so happens, dear brother, that mum and I just had a splendid chat over tea. Now will you kindly remove your head from my fireplace before you make an even bigger mess?

Charlie opened his mouth in surprise and wrinkled his nose.

"How do you do it? Dad's the only one I've ever seen handle mum effectively, and even _he_ doesn't always have the best of luck."

Ginny just grinned. "It's a gift, what can I say?" she frowned suddenly and dropped her hands from her hips. "Hang on… how did _you_ know about Ron?"

"Oh, Harry told me," Charlie said, the flames around his head flaring up as he shrugged.

Ginny blinked in surprise and furrowed her brow.

"When did you talk to him?"

Again, Charlie shrugged. "He pops in from time to time," he answered, a bit awkwardly. "Look Gin, I've gotta go. This fireplace is really uncomfortable. I'm glad mum left you in one piece."

Ginny just looked at her older brother skeptically but kept her mouth shut.

"Uh-huh. I'll see you later Charlie."

"Bye Gin, take care."

Ginny frowned at the now empty fireplace. What was _that _all about? She sighed when suddenly a loud crack filled the room.

"Oh for _fuck's sake_ will you people leave me the hell _alone_!" she roared, spinning around angrily. "Oh Merlin! Padma I'm _so_ sorry!"

Padma Patil stood at the center of the room, a roll of parchment in hand and her mouth hanging open in surprise. She knew Ginny Weasley could be a bit mouthy—anyone with that many brothers simply had to be—but she had always been very pleasant whenever Padma was around.

"I… I'm sorry… it's just that Ron and Hermione were both in Ron's room, and I didn't want to just barge in or anything… and you had said earlier to just come here if…"

Ginny waved her arms and shook her head at Padma.

"No, no. I'm so sorry." Ginny explained, "I thought you were a Weasley and… oh, never mind. I'll give those notes to Ron, yeah?"

1111111111111111111111

"Ron? I'm sorry, but I have to get up. You need a cold compress for your fever."

Ron grudgingly removed his arms from Hermione's waist, trying not to think about just how much effort it took to do so, and allowed his girlfriend to wriggle out of his grasp. He followed her with his eyes until he could no longer see her without moving his head, and then grit his teeth as a wave of nausea washed over him. He had nothing left in his system, despite everyone's attempts to get him to eat, and resigned himself to dry heaving—cursing at the effort leaning over the edge of the bed took.

Everything hurt—his head, his back, his limbs. His throat was raw and every swallow felt like forcing down a bowtruckle. He knew he was burning up but he still felt cold. Worst of all, he was in 'vision phase,' as he had started to call it. It really didn't matter whether he was asleep or awake anymore. He'd get the foul visions—nightmares, if they could be called that—at random. One moment he would be fine and the next closing his eyes was met with the horrifying scenes.

Hermione returned to the dimly lit room with a cold washrag in her hands. She sat gingerly next to Ron and brushed his sticky bangs from his forehead before placing the cool rag on it. Her own hair was pulled up, loose strands sticking to her sweaty neck. Being curled up next to a burning up Ron was not exactly comfortable, but she really couldn't be bothered to care.

"I hate this 'Mione," Ron whispered weakly. He had stopped paying so much attention to what he looked like in front of Hermione ages ago; it was just too much effort. Something had shifted between them and he couldn't define if even if he'd had the energy.

Hermione's stomach lurched at how miserable Ron sounded. She really didn't know what else to do for him, and it was beginning to drive her mad. She quite literally spent all the time she was away from Ron pacing her flat and wracking her brain for some sort of idea to help him. The fact was that there really wasn't anything that could be done. Ron had to throw the curse; end of story.

Not knowing what else to do, Hermione gently nudged Ron so that he was lying on his stomach. She knelt beside him and began to work her hands along his shoulders and back, massaging the muscles she knew were aching.

Ron drew a deep breath of relief and let it out slowly, trying to keep his breathing normal; he'd been getting short of breath a lot lately. It didn't take long before Ron's eyes slid closed in relaxation, only to have them fly open again with a jolt.

"Hermione," he said, his voice pained, "Please stop. You'll put me to sleep."

Hermione withdrew her hands quickly and began apologizing, clamoring away from him. Ron stuck his arm out and wrapped his hand around her wrist before she could get too far.

"It's ok. Just… stay with me?"

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. She was so frustrated. She couldn't _do_ anything. She hated feeling so helpless. It was the worst when Ron was like this. He was a bit more animated from time to time but on days like these Hermione could tell that he was just so _tired_.

Ron tugged gently on her wrist and shifted his position so that Hermione could lie down next to him. She complied, and snuggled up to the red head, her face level with his on the pillow.

Ron watched her, unblinking. It was taking all of his energy to keep his eyes open at the moment.

"You're stunning, you know that?" he said softly.

Hermione swallowed thickly and pressed her lips together, silent tears rolling down her temple and over the bridge of her nose.

Ron blinked, rather startled at the sudden onset of tears.

"Merlin! I'm sorry… it was meant as a compliment."

Hermione smiled as she sniffled, nodding her head.

"I know," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "I just… I'm so frustrated that I can't do anything for you. This… I just hate this."

Ron would have sighed in relief if he'd had the energy. For a moment he thought he might have somehow managed to say something stupid. That would certainly be the winner—insulting your girlfriend to tears while completely ill and attempting to compliment her. Though if anyone could pull it off, Ron was certain he could.

"It's ok," he said gently, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. "I'm alright."

The couple both snorted at the statement. It was obvious that Ron was anything but alright at the present.

"Well, you know what I mean."

The couple lay quietly for a moment, until once again Ron's eyes slid shut. He shuddered violently and his eyes snapped open again, his hold on Hermione tensing and then tightening around her waist.

"Ron…" Hermione said softly, not sure whether asking him was a good idea or not. "What do you see?"

Ron bit his lip and pulled his gaze away from Hermione. He almost shook his head, but something stopped him. He swallowed and then took a deep breath to gather some energy.

"It's… it's like a boggart and a dementor."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. She couldn't possibly see what was so frightening about a boggart and a dementor. No one even knew what a boggart looked like…

Ron was watching her closely, trying to figure out why she looked so confused.

"You know how a dementor makes you relive your worst moments," Ron continued, "and a boggart changes into whatever you fear most? It's like you're reliving the thing you fear most—even though it's never actually happened."

Hermione wanted to slap herself. And people thought she was _bright_? She focused her attention back on Ron, who had paused to catch his breath again. His grip suddenly became firmer and he did his best to pull Hermione closer to him. Hermione took the hint and nuzzled into his shoulder, allowing him to thread his fingers into her still sticky and untamed hair. Ron shuddered slightly and Hermione could feel him shaking; she knew it had nothing to do with his fever at the moment.

"I see you," Ron whispered hoarsely. "And…"

Hermione waited as Ron collected himself. Though at first she had a feeling Ron was going to say he saw her dead, something told her that wasn't it.

"…and Lucius."

Hermione sighed inwardly. She knew how horrific it was to watch the people you loved being tortured. But she also knew that they just had to deal with the memories of it. She had nightmares of Harry and Ron under the _cruciatus_ fairly frequently, and had just learned to cope.

"He's not torturing you like in the war." Ron said suddenly, as though reading her mind. "It's…" he shuddered again, "…it's different."

Hermione bit her lip and tried to work out what Ron was telling her. She waited patiently, willing herself to understand sooner so that this would be easier on Ron.

"He's… he's… _touching_ you Hermione… I mean… like... And I can't _do_ anything! It's… I mean I'm right there watching the little shit _rape_ you and the bastard _knows_ it! And what's worse is _you_ know I'm there! You beg me to help you and I _can't_! I don't…."

Ron suddenly began coughing violently and Hermione was forced to pull away from him. Ron propped himself up on his arm and Hermione rubbed small circles along his back as he struggled to draw in breath.

"Shh…" Hermione soothed. "it's ok Ron. I'm here. I'm here, safe with you. Try and relax."

Ron did as he was told and took a deep, shuddery breath as he lay back down.

"Ron I… I don't know what to say."

Ron just swallowed and pulled Hermione gently down next to him again.

"I know," he said softly, lacing his arms back around her, "I just… I just like knowing you're here. I…"

"Shhh," Hermione said gently, "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

1111111111111

Harry took one look at Hermione and instantly crossed the room and wrapped her into a bone crushing hug.

Hermione blinked in surprise at him once he had pulled away, a book in her left hand and a roll of parchment in her right. She had just stood there while Harry hugged her, rather stunned.

"Uh, what was that for?"

Harry laughed slightly and shook his head at Hermione.

"You just really looked like you could use one."

"Is it that bad?" Hermione asked, sighing.

Harry smiled sympathetically.

"You look like you did the day before our OWLs."

Hermione's eyes widened and she groaned. She really did look worse for wear. Her hair was pulled back, but strands had come loose and were now sticking out all over the place with longer strands falling into her face. Quills had been shoved in the tangled mass for safekeeping, only adding to her frazzled appearance. She couldn't be bothered to go down to her own flat and had just changed into a pair of Ron's sleep pants and one of Harry's old Hogwarts shirts—her own clothes smelling like a combination of sweat, vomit and chicken soup. The dark circles under her eyes did little to improve the situation and Harry could swear that Hermione's earrings didn't even match.

"He told me what he sees in those visions." Hermione said bluntly.

Harry's eyebrows rose, but he stayed silent. He wasn't going to ask her, and Hermione appreciated him all the more for it.

"I have to do something Harry. I'm going to lose it, watching him like that. I… I think I have an idea…"

Harry instantly snapped to attention.

"What do you need me to do?" He asked without hesitation.

Hermione handed over the book she was holding and pulled a quill out from her hair.

"Get ready to take a lot of notes."

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Please Review lovlies... 


	13. Insightful, yeah?

**A/N:** So sorry to have kept you waiting again... and that I kept you hanging... and that I'm going to do it again. Hey, at least it's an update. I've been super busy with school at the moment (home stretch until finals and all), so I've completely lost track of which reviews I've responded to and which I haven't. If I missed you I am SO sorry, please forgive me and know that I so appreciate everyone who has given me feedback on this thing. Please continue to do so.

P.S. Thanks to all of you who wished the opera well. We had a great show :-)

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Chapter 12. Insightful, yeah? 

_Harry sat silently at the table in Grimauld Place, his hands gripping a mug of hot drink—he really couldn't be bothered to know what it was. Molly had thrust the mug into his hands, insisting he drink before heading back up the stairs to assist Madame Pomfrey. _

_Remus sat across from Harry, silently sipping a drink of his own. He was as haggard as ever, but even peakier looking than usual since the full moon had been two nights prior. _

_Harry rarely saw the marauder and when he did it was usually only in snatches. Remus was neck deep in Greyback's world of werewolf drones. He wasn't usually in contact with anyone for weeks at a time. _

_Though Harry really didn't work with the Order directly, crossing paths with them from time to time was inevitable. They helped each other out, but the trio worked primarily alone. It was safer that way; Voldemort wouldn't expect it. Despite this, Remus always made the effort to contact Harry when he could. The fact that they were both at Grimauld Place at the same time was a wonder of a coincidence in itself._

"_Alright there Harry?"_

_Harry looked up from his drink and met Lupin's gaze. For whatever reason, Harry really couldn't be bothered with his usual display of bravado. He reserved that particular show for Mrs. Weasley, for Mad-Eye (who was still very wary of what Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been doing for over a year and a half now, and rather unconvinced that they could handle it despite how many times they proved themselves)._

_But with Lupin, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He was too tired, too spent, and too furious with himself._

"_I've been better professor."_

_Harry could hardly believe the sound of his own voice. He didn't know he could sound quite so pathetic. He cleared his throat, as though by doing so would explain the strain it had taken to get those few words out._

_Lupin waited quietly, knowing from experience that Harry was going to talk. He had an uncanny knack for knowing when the teen was going to wall himself up or let loose. Perhaps it was because he was so reminiscent of James, who Remus had been able to read like a book. Whatever the reason, Lupin just sat quietly as Harry searched for words._

"_I… they… they bloody did it again!" Harry exploded, causing Lupin to blink in surprise._

"_Did what again Harry?"_

_Harry held his head in his hands and shook it. "Tried to… to save me. The stupid idiots! I… They're upstairs right now having Madame Pomfrey heal… heal who the bloody hell knows what, all because they jumped in front of curses meant for me! They… why do they keep doing it! It's bad enough I've dragged them into all of this with me."_

"_Harry," Lupin said gently, "Would you jump in front of a curse for them?"_

_Harry looked up, startled by the question. "Of course I would," he said, sounding utterly indignant. "I…"_

"_Then why are you angry for them for doing it for you?" Lupin interrupted._

_Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again, unable to come up with a suitable answer. Lupin watched carefully as the war hardened teenager sank back into his chair. Lupin hated thinking of him like that—as war hardened, but Harry had lost his innocence long ago, and it was obvious that he was now desperately fighting to hold on to himself. Stronger men than Harry had lost themselves in war, and Lupin refused to allow his best friend's only son to fall under that same fate, whatever it took. _

"_Don't they get it though Remus?" Harry said quietly, causing Lupin to blink in surprise once again. Harry rarely called him by his first name. 'Professor' had become an affectionate term of sorts, and even when that title was dropped Harry still usually addressed him by his surname. "If I loose them," he continued, "I… what will I do?"_

_The question shot through Remus like lightning. He could almost hear the air leaving his lungs. He could honestly say that for the first time he knew what it felt like to be a father—or as close as one could feel to a father without actually being one literally. He was hit with a strong memory of James, celebrating the announcement of Lily's pregnancy with himself and Sirius, going nearly frantic as the realization of what being a father really meant. _"What about when he asks the hard questions Moony? What the hell do I know about those kinds of things?"

_Lupin still remembered his answer. With a smirk at Sirius, who was desperately trying not to laugh outright, Lupin took his friend firmly by the shoulders and forced him to look him in the eye. _"You will tell him the honest truth James," _he had told him,_ "Even if the truth is ugly, or that you don't know, you'll be honest with him… and he'll respect you for that."

_Harry hadn't meant for the question to be answered really, and Lupin knew this. But it didn't matter. He had the answer to that question, and he was going to tell Harry so, no matter how much he didn't really want to hear it. _

_Harry met Lupin's gaze suspiciously, trying to read the expression on the weary werewolf's face. Their eyes locked and Lupin made sure to hold Harry's there without a word._

"_You'll live Harry," Lupin said firmly._

_Harry furrowed his brow and sat back in his chair once again, rather perturbed by the harshness of the words. Lupin was never one to be so bluntly insensitive._

_Lupin continued to hold Harry's gaze as the younger man worked frantically to understand why his serene and understanding surrogate uncle would say such a thing to him at such a moment as this._

_And then it hit him. _

_Harry's expression softened as his throat suddenly went dry. Lupin could say such a thing because Lupin _knew_. Lupin understood, in a way few others could, what it was like to loose the people you loved—the people you lived for. _

_Harry continued to stare at his former professor and he slowly nodded, letting Remus know that he had understood._

"_And…" he sad suddenly, almost surprised to find himself capable of speech, "this… living, even without them, it's… it's not… you know, unbearable?"_

"_Some days," Remus answered softly, "but you find that it can indeed be done. It starts out as a shadow at first, like you aren't really sure why you're alive really, and then, eventually, you realize that there are still things worth living for."_

"_Tonks," Harry said simply._

_A shade of a smile passes Lupin's lips as he nodded slightly. _

"_Mmm, she would be one of those things, yes. But there was more, before her. You, for example."_

_Harry bit his lip and dropped his eyes away from Lupin's, who leaned forward towards Harry. _

"_I'm sure that you have always wondered, since your third year, why you were not given into my care when your parents died…"_

"_But I imagine the werewolf thing might have had something to do with it," Harry said for him._

_Remus nodded sadly. "It killed me."_

_Harry shook his head, a small smirk making its way across his features._

"_You lived."_

1111111111111111111111111111111

George glanced around his youngest brother's flat and frowned. He was never sure whether to show up in Ron's place or Ginny's and it was always rather awkward apparating right into their living rooms as well. He sometimes wished they'd decided to live in a wizarding apartment complex, but he understood why they'd chosen to go muggle. It wouldn't do to have neighbors whispering about how the infamous Golden Trio had moved in. It just wasn't worth messing with.

"Anyone home?" George called, his eyes scanning down the hall.

"In the kitchen… George?"

"Very good. I remember when you couldn't even tell me and Fred apart even after we told you about Fred's birthmark." George replied, entering the kitchen and grinning widely at Hermione.

His grin faltered however, as he took in the sight of the bushy haired Gryffindor. She was bent over several books and rolls of parchment, a cauldron simmering just to her left. She looked, if George had to be honest, like a train wreck.

"Well it's not like your collarbones are exposed when wearing a school robe—or even a t-shirt for that matter," Hermione replied, still not looking up from a piece of parchment containing her own handwriting.

"Ah, very true," George said, feeling a little uncomfortable—not a regular occurrence for George, but it seemed to be happening more and more in recent months.

At last, Hermione looked up from her notes, smiling weakly and apologetically at George.

"I'm sorry. I get a little preoccupied. Did you need something? Someone?" she asked.

"Er…" George faltered, "Actually I just thought I'd pop in to say hi… check up on Ron maybe?"

Hermione frowned. "Oh… well, you can see him if you want, but he's pretty out of it at the moment. Harry's with him. He's… he's pretty sick George."

"I gathered that," George replied, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe. "What about you? No offence Herms, but you've certainly looked better. When's the last time you even got out of this place?"

Hermione just shrugged. "I'm working on a potion… for Ron. He's got to break this stupid curse. He's been stuck here longer than I have."

George nodded, that unfamiliar feeling of awkwardness filling the air around him again.

"Right. Well, is Gin around then?"

Hermione pursed her lips in thought before answering, "Erm, the balcony maybe? I'm not sure. She's around somewhere. I don't think she went back to our flat."

George nodded and stepped out of the kitchen, leaving Hermione to her cauldron. He just stood in the living room for a moment, wondering why he had even bothered to come over here. A mental image of Angelina chatting on about curtains however, quickly reminded him. George loved his brother dearly, and he loved Angelina as well, but watching the two of them discuss decorating plans for the flat that he and Fred had bought together was a bit much. He would be moving in with Lee after the wedding. Lee had a flat just outside of Hogsmeade and Fred and George had decided it was time to go ahead and open a second shop there. Fred would run the one is Diagon Alley, while George oversaw the new Hogsmeade shop. Again, it was all a bit much.

Shaking his head, George forced himself towards the door to the balcony, a grin spreading across his face at the lone figure leaning against the balcony railing.

"Evening Miss Weasley."

Ginny spun around in surprise, registered that it was George, and glared evenly at him.

"Well, that's a fine way to greet your brother now isn't it?"

Ginny just continued to glare fiercely at the ginger haired man.

"O-kaaay… Erm, what did I do?"

Ginny huffed in exasperation and put her hands on her hips.

"You told mum; remember?"

George shrugged again and tried to think of something to say. A joke at the moment probably wouldn't do much good, and he'd already apologized more than once for his blunder a few days ago.

"Oh never mind," Ginny said, allowing her arms to fall limply at her sides. "What are you doing here anyway? Is Fred with you?"

It suddenly dawned on Ginny how odd it was that George had just showed up at the flat unannounced. She didn't mind, but it was still slightly weird. Fred and George were almost always busy with something or another. Watching George, Ginny suddenly thought he looked quite… bored. It wasn't a look she could recall ever seeing on either of the twins before—there was supposed to be something always scheming just beneath the surface with those two.

George shifted his gaze away from Ginny and just shrugged, making a half attempt at a smirk. He strode over to the railing and leant across it, his back to Ginny.

"Fred's not here Gin. He's… he's at the flat. Can't a guy just come visit his baby brother and sister?"

Ginny sighed and walked back to the railing to stand next to George. She had always gotten on quite well with the twins. They'd let her tag along with them far more often than Ron used to, and she'd mostly stuck with them her first couple years at Hogwarts since Ron was always with Harry—Ginny had always been such a nervous wreck in front of that stupid boy. It was funny how things ended up. She was much closer to Ron than she was Fred or George. The twins never really involved her in anything personal; they had each other for that.

Despite this, Ginny understood why George was here. He just didn't have anywhere else to go really, now that Fred had things in his life other than George to occupy himself with.

"It sucks doesn't it," Ginny said, not looking at her brother.

George stayed very quite, a feat Ginny didn't know he had in him, and continued to look out at the glorious view of the parking lot, entertained by a muggle tenant bemoaning the fact that her keys were locked inside her car.

"It's not so bad," he said finally, pulling his wand out of the pocket of his magenta work robes and taking careful aim of the car.

Ginny nodded slowly, eyeing George's wand.

"Yeah… but it still sucks."

George snickered and shook his head.

"Ever the insightful one you are."

"At least I don't go around pretending to be a shallow twit with no feelings."

George turned to look at Ginny, his wand temporarily forgotten, looking slightly impressed.

"Ouch Gin."

"Who said I was directing that at you?" Ginny asked innocently, earning another snicker from her brother.

George smirked and muttered "_alohamora_"at the car. The frustrated muggle woman gasped as her car door suddenly flung open in front of her. Ginny shook her head and glanced over at George, who pocketed his wand again.

The siblings stood in silence once again before a sharp cry of terror made its way faintly through the walls of the flat and out on the balcony. George snapped his head up in alarm but Ginny just sighed.

"It's just Ron. He's alright."

George spun around to face his sister, his brow furrowed in confusion. Ginny sighed again and threw her arms in the air.

"I know George! Okay? I bloody well know! It's a mess! Everything is a mess! Hermione is going nutters trying to come up with a solution; Ron is too damn sick to keep her from stressing herself out to the point of insanity, and Harry… Merlin George, I don't even want to _talk_ about Harry! And you know what the worst part is?"

George just stared at his sister, waiting for her to finish, completely gobsmacked by her sudden outburst. Ginny had a temper yes, but she was usually very level headed about it.

"The worst part George, is that this is the bloody _IMPROVED_ version of things around here!"

Ginny shook her head and flung her hair over her shoulder in agitation. George just continued to stare at her, completely out of his element.

"And I thought I had problems," he said finally.

Ginny snorted and leaned against the railing once again.

"I dunno George, seems like no matter what I do, I'll always just be stuck on the outside, watching those three try and put their lives together. They're… they're unbreakable that lot. Sometimes I just wish… I wish I could be part of that but…"

"…but you know that there are some things you will just never be a part of… no matter how close you are to them," George finished quietly, surprising both himself and Ginny.

Ginny blinked up at George, who managed to meet her eyes in return.

"See," he said proudly, "insightful, yeah?"

1111111111111111111

"She's eating, right?"

"Don't try and talk Ron, you'll end up coughing up a lung… again."

Ron would have lectured Harry if it didn't take so much energy. He opted for a rude hand gesture instead which Harry rolled his eyes at.

"Oh very intimidating," Harry said, "And yes, she's eating. I make sure of it."

Ron tried to reply, but it came out as a muffled grunt instead.

"Your welcome mate," Harry told him.

Ron sighed to himself. Both he and Harry knew that Ron was going to fall asleep. There was no way around it really. His body simply had to have it, and Ron's best efforts were thwarted no matter how desperately he preferred to stay awake. By now, Harry could tell when Ron wasn't going to be able to fight it, and Ron recognized when it was pointless not to just give in. There was little else that could be done about the situation, except for Harry waking Ron when the night visions were too much.

Harry bit his lip and glanced nervously at his best mate. Ron was staring intently at the wall opposite his bed, as though by doing so would enable him to sleep with his eyes open and not force him to see whatever it was Ron witnessed when he closed his eyes. Hermione was still the only one Ron had revealed the nature of his nightmares to.

"Oi," Harry finally said, nudging Ron slightly with his foot, "Stop fighting it mate. I won't let it go on long."

Ron looked over at Harry who was currently propped up against the footboard of Ron's bed, parchments full of quiditch plays scattered around him. Harry had just been informed that as a reserve player, he may be called on to take the place of any given teammate if they were unable to play in a match. A poor Keeper was better than no Keeper after all, so Harry had to be up to date with all of the team's plays and strategies—an area that Seekers typically played little part in.

"Really Ron, you know it's going to happen."

Ron sank back into his pillow and allowed his eyelids to slide closed reluctantly, a grimace already plastered on his features.

Harry sighed and went back to his parchment, not really seeing any of it as he made a mental note of the time. The goal was for Ron to get at least an hour's worth of sleep before waking him, but it was hard to let it go on that long. Harry had an extremely difficult time watching his best friend writhe around in distress. It was too reminiscent of memories Harry would rather he didn't have.

After 45 minutes, Harry was off the bed and pacing back and forth across Ron's room, only barely restraining himself from jerking Ron away from the nightmare that plagued him. He tugged nervously at his hair, and looked at the clock for the hundredth time when Ron suddenly let out a sharp cry, his voice ringing with defeat and frustrated agony.

That was the last straw. Harry rushed forward and gripped Ron by the shoulders.

"Ron? Ron, wake up. Come on Ron…"

Ron jerked awake and immediately sat up, gripping at Harry's shirt with a frantic look in his eyes.

"It's me Ron! It's alright, it's just me. You're ok mate."

Ron gasped and instantly went into a coughing fit as Harry dutifully stepped away and allowed Ron to get his bearings.

"You alright?" Harry asked finally, once Ron stopped coughing and looked less frantic.

"Yeah," he said weakly, "Yeah… I'm alright."

Harry nodded and cautiously resumed his perch at the foot of Ron's bed, as was his custom, and just watched Ron for a moment.

Ron rolled his eyes and propped himself up slightly.

"Fever's down Harry; I hate when you look so concerned. It gives me the creeps."

"Sorry," Harry muttered, managing to break into a smile. "I just feel a bit awkward with you so sick. Ginny and Hermione have it much easier. Or perhaps you want me to stroke your hair for you?"

"Shut up. Only a git would tease his best mate in a state like mine."

"Well you've informed me several times that I am exceedingly good at being a git, so there you have it."

Ron shook his head and then leaned it against the headboard, shivering as he closed his eyes before quickly snapping them back open again.

Harry knew what that meant, and knew the routine. It was distraction time. It always went unspoken. Sometimes Harry and Ron just sat in silence, and other times Harry chatted on and on as much as he could. He just instinctively knew which tactic was needed and when by now. Unlike the girls, Harry ignored all of the gasping Ron did between sentences, as well as the coughing fits that commonly interrupted all conversation, and Ron liked it that way. He didn't feel like an invalid when Harry was 'on watch' as he'd come to call it.

"So," Harry began, "What's the first thing you intend to do when you're better?"

"Take Hermione on a proper date," Ron answered promptly.

Harry tilted his head in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yeah. We've never been on one. Isn't that ridiculous?"

Harry frowned. He had never thought much about it, but he supposed Ron was right. Considering Ron had been bedridden for the majority of his relationship with Hermione, it wasn't really all that surprising.

"I was thinking I'd maybe take her to Hogsmeade you know? Since that's where our first date should have been if I hadn't been such a moron back at Hogwarts."

Harry snickered. He had to agree.

"Plan on taking her to Madame Pudifoot's tea house?"

Ron wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Merlin no. Unless… you don't think Hermione would fancy a place like that do you?"

Harry just shrugged. "She _is _a girl Ron—as you so eloquently pointed out in our fourth year. She probably secretly likes all that girly romantic stuff deep down. I swear I heard her sigh at Lockhart once.

"Bet she read loads of fairy tales when she was younger too," Ron agreed, rather glumly. "I hope I don't turn out to be a rubbish boyfriend."

Harry arched an eyebrow at his friend in surprise.

"I thought I was the one with bad self esteem here," Harry said with a grin.

"You are. That wasn't bad self esteem that was lack of self confidence, which happens to be my specialty if you don't mind; you can't have all the psychological issues you know."

Harry snickered and went back to shuffling through the parchments he was now half buried in. He had never really done any Chasing during a quiditch match, and was rather nervous that if he had to sub in for anyone he'd make a complete fool of himself. He briefly considered asking Ginny to help him out a bit, but she had seemed rather cold towards him for the past couple of days, and Harry wasn't sure he had the energy to find out why.

Ron sank deeper under his duvet and curled up on his side. Harry knew his best mate felt far worse than he sounded, but he also knew that Ron was tired of being treated like he was dying.

"Something's off with Hermione lately," Ron said suddenly, not bothering to turn his head enough to see Harry.

"Er… you mean besides her near insanity over helping you get better sooner?" Harry asked, only partly joking.

Harry waited patiently as Ron gathered the energy to speak and Harry readied himself to pay careful attention. It could get rather hard to understand Ron with all the wheezing and coughing in between words, but he would never show that to Ron. The situation was bad enough already, and Harry wouldn't want his near inability to speak to be pointed out to him if he were in Ron's place.

"No. She's… I'm not really sure what it is. Distant? Something like that. It's almost like she's torn about something whenever we're having a serious or intimate conversation or what have you."

Harry blinked and leaned back against the footboard. Ron Weasley had just used the word intimate without so much as flushing. He also couldn't help thinking that it was a slightly deep observation for Ron. Then again, Hermione was the worst liar he had ever met. The only exception had been her performance in front of Umbridge fifth year.

"I don't know what to tell you mate. She's been the same old Hermione around me. You didn't say anything stupid did you?"

Ron wished he had the energy to kick Harry but instead settled for turning his head enough to glare at him.

"Why is it that everyone always assumes that's the case?"

Harry stayed silent and grinned cheekily.

"I really don't think I've said anything," Ron went on. "I don't know. Maybe I'm starting to imagine things now as well—going a bit delirious."

Harry laughed and patted Ron's ankle encouragingly.

"Well if you are mate, you could always blame anything you might have said on that."

Ron rolled his eyes but didn't comment. He slowly began to flip on his back and swing his feet over the edge of his bed, still lying across his mattress.

"Uh… what are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Hang on," Ron mumbled, nearly incoherently as he closed his eyes and waited for the pounding in his head to subside.

After a few minutes, Ron finally opened his eyes again and made a move to sit up—an attempt that failed miserably as his head swam and he flopped back down onto his mattress, glaring angrily at the ceiling.

"Ron… seriously. What are you trying to do?" Harry asked again, sitting up from the footboard and peering over Ron.

"Bathroom," Ron muttered, still glaring at the ceiling. "I figure it's been about 2 hours since I last puked and a little longer than that since my temperature has shot up. So, if there is any pattern to my life at all I should have a fever within the next 20 minutes and intense nausea in the next 30. So if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to have a pee before I'm too damn miserable to get out of bed."

Harry blinked at his best friend, not sure whether he felt amused or sorry. While it was nice to know that Ron was still, well—Ron, it was upsetting to see him like this.

"The energy it took saying all of that could have gone towards actually getting up you know," Harry replied, climbing off the mattress and sticking his hand out to help Ron up.

Ron just sighed and took Harry's hand, allowing Harry to pull him up. He sat on the edge of the bed, trembling as he concentrated on keeping his breathing even and his head from spinning. He hadn't been able to keep much food down for quite some time, making him incredibly weak. Ginny had warned him that if he couldn't keep _anything_ down for 3 days in a row they would have to take him to St. Mungo's—a place Ron really did not want to have to be.

"I… I don't think…"

Ron didn't need to finish as Harry dutifully stuck his hand out again and hauled Ron to his feet. Ron swayed slightly and Harry had to hold on to his elbow to keep the red head from falling over. Without a word, Harry pulled one of Ron's arms across his shoulders and took the brunt of Ron's weight as they traversed the agonizingly long (in Ron's opinion anyway) stretch between Ron's bed and the bathroom door.

"Jeez Ron. You've lost an awful amount of weight," Harry commented, to which Ron wished he had the strength to retort.

The doorframe took over Harry's leaning post duties, and Ron closed the bathroom door behind him, rolling his eyes as Harry reminded him not to lock it in case he collapsed. Harry never seemed to remember that he could use his wand to unlock things.

Ron leaned heavily on the sink counter, waiting for the room to stop spinning. He glanced up at himself in the mirror and cringed. He looked like hell. There was no other way of saying it, and Harry had been right—he'd definitely lost weight; he felt like he was as gangly as he had been at 14.

He emerged moments later, and Harry once again took the brunt of Ron's weight before the red head collapsed back into bed.

Harry resumed his position at the foot of the bed and once again went back to his parchment while Ron caught his breath.

"When's the last time I had a shower?" Ron asked suddenly, surprising Harry slightly.

Harry looked up and gave Ron an amused look before shaking his head and looking back down at the quidditch plays.

"Seriously Harry. I don't think I've showered for 4 days now and…"

"Ron," Harry interrupted, "For your own health, just stop. We both know you feel horrible. No, you really don't smell that great. Yes, your girlfriend has to see you like this and that kinda sucks but that's how it is. No, I don't think she's even noticed. And yes, I would be happy to stay with you tomorrow to give Hermione a break and help you take some sort of a bath."

Ron nodded mutely and curled up under his blankets, thankful that Harry had covered everything he'd wanted to say. He truly didn't think he had the energy to argue with him even if he'd wanted to. It was a wonder he could have as much conversation as he did—although such moments were few and far between.

Harry looked up at Ron again and sighed.

"It'll be alright mate," he said quietly, "You're… you're strong ya know? You'll be able to fight this."

Before Ron could reply, the door creaked open and Hermione nervously poked her head in.

"Er, can I come in?"

"Yeah of course," Harry answered.

"Join the fun," Ron quipped weakly.

Hermione stood at the doorway, looking rather timid, and held up a small flask of black liquid.

"I think… I think this just might do it."

* * *

**A/N:** I couldn't very well have him get better yes now could I? I'll do my best to have another chapter up before the week is over... though my paper(s) DO get priority... or at least I'm telling myself they do.

**Mel (as I know I didn't respond to you since your anon.)-** Thank you as always for your devotion to this fic... and keeping me encouraged about it lol. I'm happy to hear that the Molly/Ginny scene was alright. Molly seems like she'd be so easy to write, but it's tricky to get her balanced. I like her character though... she's a fun challenge rather than a pain in the butt one... like Percy for example. I keep trying to think of something to do with him but he's too dang infuriating to write. Ah well, whatever. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter and again, thanks for your reviews.

**Please Review...** particularly the 35 of you who have this on alert or favorites ;-) Thanks, by the way.


	14. Get Up

Chapter 13: Get Up

_Draco stood staring up at the door as though it were going to eat him whole. He cursed himself for trembling, but this was what he had become—a trembling piece of flesh for months and months now. He didn't know how long he had been running, but it was all over now. They had found him, and he wasn't sure that he'd be able to lie his way out this._

_Malfoy snapped his attention back to the door as whoever stood behind it knocked again, more forcefully this time. If he hadn't been so terrified, he would have realized that no death eater sent to hunt him down was going to have the decency to knock first. He set his face into a scowl, willed himself to stop shaking, and opened the door._

"_Draco!"_

_Malfoy's eyes widened as Pansy launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest._

"_Where the hell have you been!?! Do you have any idea how scared I've been? Crabbe and Goyle couldn't even tell me anything!"_

_Draco gently pulled Pansy's arms away from his neck and stepped away from her._

"_How did you find me?" he asked weakly._

_Pansy ceased her rapid questioning and took in the haggard looking young man before her. It had been months since she'd seen him. He looked utterly defeated—as though simply standing there was hardly worth it to him. _

"_Draco?"_

"_How did you find me?" he repeated, not meeting her eyes._

_Pansy swallowed thickly and bit her lip. She had heard rumors, but she hadn't let herself believe any of them. Draco simply couldn't have been so stupid as to flee the death eaters. He was one of them! She knew they had been furious with his failed murder attempt, but since he had managed to get the death eaters into Hogwarts, Voldemort hadn't punished him _too_ harshly. _

"_I… I've been looking for you for months," she said slowly, "I remembered you once told me about a great uncle's camping shack or something… so… so here I am."_

_Draco blinked at her in surprise._

"_You must have done a lot of research."_

_Pansy flushed slightly. It had taken a lot of work to find something so obscure as a hunting cabin. Pansy Parkinson wasn't a Slytherin for nothing though; there were some spells Hogwarts wouldn't teach you and she'd had to modify more than a couple memories in the process. _

"_I… I had to see you. I had to make sure you're alright. Mum and Dad still won't take the mark, no matter how much they support… _him_… so it's not like I have too many sources of information. The things I did hear though…"_

_Pansy trailed off and looked intently at Draco. He had at long last met her eyes, looking at her as though it hurt. Her heart pounded in her ears as a feeling of dread suddenly crept through her veins._

"_You… Oh Merlin Draco, tell me it isn't true! Tell me you didn't really run!"_

_Draco once again dropped his gaze, shame washing over him as Pansy's eyes filled with tears._

"_He'll kill you Draco! Any of them will! What were you thinking?! You have to go back!" Pansy shrieked, her voice panicky._

_Draco looked back up at her and immediately wished he hadn't. He couldn't bear to see her like this. As if he hadn't hurt enough people already._

"_I can't Pansy," he said quietly. "There's… I can't do it."_

"_What do you mean you can't do it!?!" Pansy screamed. "You have to! He'll forgive you if you do something drastic for him! Potter!! Bring him Potter or Weasley or the mudblood!"_

_Draco winced and shook his head. _

"_I… I can't Pansy, don't you see that? I had the chance but I…Pansy I saved her. I could have turned her over to the Dark Lord and I… I saved her bloody life instead!"_

_Pansy stared, her mouth open in shock. "You… you _saved_ Granger? The mudblood bitch?! Why… why would you… she's…"_

"_She's what?" Draco snapped, "A mudblood? Give it up Pansy; we aren't any better than her! I was the best bloody Slytherin in our year and there's no way I'd ever be able to take on Granger! I've seen her duel, Pansy, she's… it's insane. I don't know who we're kidding! The Dark Lord is a damn half-blood and we march around like we're gods because our families have been inbreeding for centuries!!"_

_Pansy blinked, stunned, her eyes shinning with angry tears. She couldn't believe what she was hearing any more than Malfoy could believe what he was saying._

"_I don't care!" she roared, matching Draco's volume, "I don't care about pureblood shit Draco! I just want you alive!"_

_Draco looked away, scowling at the floor. Pansy_ did_ care about bloodlines. He knew she did. He opened his mouth to reply when Pansy's hand found his chin and pulled his face to look into her own. Before he could get any words out, Pansy brought her lips to his._

_It took everything in Draco not to sob. He closed his eyes and pulled Pansy closer to him._

_When they parted at last, Draco rested his forehead against Pansy's and swallowed hard._

"_I can't do it Pansy. I'm… I'm…"_

_Draco didn't know how to finish. He didn't know _what_ he was. Reformed? A coward? Caught up in a war he didn't understand? Confused? He didn't even know if any of those things were true. Did he hate muggle-borns? Did he want the world Voldemort was offering?_

_In the end, it didn't really matter. All Draco knew for certain was that Dumbledore, the old fool, had been right: Draco was not a killer; Death Eaters were killers. Draco Malfoy was not a Death Eater. He just couldn't be._

"_I'll do it then," Pansy interrupted his thoughts fiercely, "If you can't bring them in, I'll do it."_

"_What?" Malfoy snapped his head up and starred at Pansy in fear. "What do you mean?"_

"_I'll clear your name with the death eaters," she said calmly, the wild look in her eyes betraying the control in her voice. "I'll get Potter for you—I'll say it was all you…"_

"_Stop it!" Draco hissed, "Just stop."_

_Pansy shook her head, her eyes burning with determination. _

"_Pansy," Draco said, realizing how serious she was, "No! Pansy you can't!"_

_Pansy just shook her head again, the determined and half crazed look not leaving her face. Draco grabbed her wrists, his eyes pleading with her. _

"_Don't! You don't understand Pansy, you can't do this!"_

"_And you can't stop me," she said softly. "Come on Draco; we both knew I'd take the mark eventually."_

_Draco shook his head furiously. "No," he hissed, "Don't you dare. You don't understand what it's like Pansy. I- I can't bare the thought of… Merlin, Pansy if only you knew!"_

_In one fluid movement, Pansy wrenched her wrists out of Draco's hold and spun on her heel, apparating away._

_Draco gasped and searched the room even though he knew she was gone. With a desperate sob, Malfoy grabbed the nearest piece of furniture and threw it across the room, screaming for Pansy to come back._

111111111111111111111111111111111111

"What do you mean I'll have to leave?" Harry demanded.

Hermione sighed and pressed a hand to her temple. Part of her wanted to just tell Harry to shove it. After all, his command for her to leave the room when she had first discovered Ron's insomnia had been far less polite than the request she'd just made. None the less, Hermione kept calm. She had other things to worry about.

"I didn't say you had to leave Harry; I just said it might be best if you did. It's up to Ron really."

Ron, who had been attempting to sit up properly, slumped back down into his pillows and closed his eyes.

"At the moment, I'd just like it if you two stopped shouting."

Harry and Hermione muttered their apologies before turning their attention back to the flask in Hermione's hand.

"So… what exactly is it going to do?" Harry ventured to ask. "I mean… what is it?"

"It's... well I've modified a sleeping draught basically. Now don't panic Ron, but basically it will put you to sleep."

Ron looked up at Hermione in frustration but she put her hand up before he could reply.

"I've modified it, like I said, so that hopefully you'll remain lucid while you're dreaming… or in your case while those visions are going on. I'll… well I mean you _should _be able to still consciously hear me even while you're trapped in one of the nightmares. If you can consciously try and hold onto that, you might, in theory anyway, be able to break the curse… throw it off like the _imperious_, you know? I mean, that's how we learned to throw that off isn't it—just find something that's part of reality and hold onto it so the curse will break?"

Harry and Ron both blinked up at Hermione, both thinking they really ought to be more accustomed to her sheer brilliance by now, but it still seemed to always come as a shock.

"Wait… what do you mean he _should_ be able to hear you?" Harry asked finally.

Hermione bit her lip and shrugged dejectedly.

"Well… it's a modified potion isn't it? It's not like it's been tried before," she explained nervously.

"And if it doesn't work?" Harry asked, hating to be the one to bring it up.

Hermione sighed and tore her gaze away from Harry's.

"Worst case scenario is that it will act like an average sleeping potion and Ron will be asleep for hours."

Ron inhaled sharply at this, fearing he was the only one who understood just how much of a worst case that scenario would be. He went into a volley of coughs before he could really express this though, but effectively managed to get Harry and Hermione's attention.

Hermione looked over at Ron, who was scowling through his coughing and pleading with his eyes. Hermione drew a steady breath and sank down on the bed next to Ron.

"Ron, I'll be right here. I won't leave. I just…" Hermione trailed off and closed her eyes, trying in vain to keep herself composed. "I just don't know what else to do."

Ron looked up at Hermione and then over to Harry, who had kept his expression carefully neutral. Taking a steady breath, Ron slowly nodded his head.

"Okay," he said softly, causing Hermione to open her eyes and look down at him hopefully.

"Okay? Really? You'll try it?"

Ron propped himself up on his elbow and gently squeezed Hermione's hand.

"You're the brightest witch I know. Of course I'll try it," he said, trying to sound confident.

"Er…Alright then," Harry interrupted, "What about me? In or out Ron? I mean… are we doing this thing right now or…?"

Ron looked from Harry to Hermione awkwardly. It wasn't that he really minded Harry being there, but he knew there would be very little he could do to help. He didn't want Harry to feel left out though—not that he should really be concerned with Harry's reaction at the moment, but Harry had a hard enough time with feeling unimportant to the people closest to him.

"Harry… it's… I don't mind if you stay," Ron said, ignoring Hermione's attempts to get him to lie back down, "It's just that… I don't know what difference it would make. I…" Ron closed his eyes briefly before making his decision. "I see Lucius. He's…" Ron dropped his gaze and bit his lip, trying desperately to just casually get the statement out there, "He's doing things to Hermione… and I don't mean like during the war."

Harry stood rooted to the carpet as he gazed steadily at Ron, his brain slowly working out what that could possibly mean. The room was deathly still and Ron was avoiding his eyes—his attempt at casualty completely useless. Comprehension washed over Harry and he instantly felt as sick as Ron looked.

"Merlin," he muttered, mostly to himself, "You… you mean that… this whole time? That's… that's what you've been seeing?" he asked, hoping he had gotten it all wrong.

Ron looked back up at Harry and said nothing, giving Harry all the answer he needed. Harry nodded and swallowed thickly, chills traveling up his spine. He could not, for life of him, imagine what it would be like to have to watch something like that happening to _anyone_, let alone Hermione… or Ginny. He suddenly regretted ever allowing Ron to sleep in the past weeks.

"I…" Harry started, but realized there was absolutely nothing that could be said.

Instead, Harry leaned forward and clasped one of Ron's hands in his own and swung his other arm around Ron's shoulder in a wonky, one armed embrace.

"I'll be right outside the door… if you need anything. You… you can do this mate—just like the _imperious, _right?

Ron smirked and nodded at his best friend. Harry climbed off the bed and headed for the door, pausing to look back at Hermione and make sure she was alright. Hermione however, wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to him. She was bent close to Ron's face, gently wiping the hair off of his forehead and whispering things Harry could not hear.

Harry watched them for a moment, an odd feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Something had shifted between his two best friends since Ron had been sick. Not only did Ron no longer have a problem with Hermione seeing him so vulnerable, he had even _requested_ her presence knowing how rough things would undoubtedly get for him. Harry vaguely recalled a conversation he and Ron had… was it only weeks ago? It certainly seemed like a lifetime had gone by since he and Ron had fought off the temptation to sleep on the balcony. What was it Ron had said though?

"_I_ _mean, that's the whole point isn't it? To find someone to share your life with, right?"_

Ah, yes. And to do that, you had to let people in—even when you don't want them to see what's there.

Harry growled to himself as he eased Ron's door closed. He couldn't be happier for his two friends, really. He was, though he only admitted it grudgingly, outrageously jealous of the pair of them though. It seemed so… so _easy _for them! A month of being bedridden and suddenly Ron and Hermione had this bond that was so… _mature_. Or it was far more mature than any relationship he'd witnessed at Hogwarts anyway, and definitely more passionate and real than any relationship he'd seen growing up. His aunt and uncle were hardly role models in that department.

Harry slid down the wall opposite Ron's door and began his vigil, casting all thoughts of jealousy from his mind. He knew he had other things to worry about anyway.

He heard Hermione cast a silencing charm and shook his head. He felt like he was being slightly melodramatic about the whole thing, but he couldn't help it really. Truth be told, everyone was beginning to get a bit desperate about Ron's condition. It had been late February when the stupid curse had first manifested, and it was now mid April—it felt like everything had been put on hold for the past two months.

"Did Hermione take over?"

Harry jumped at the sound of Ginny's voice and looked up at her in surprise.

"Um… sort of…" Harry replied, "She thinks she found a solution."

Ginny listened patiently as Harry explained what was going on. She glared down at him as he recounted what Hermione had told him, clenching her teeth and balling her fists at her sides.

"Oh, is that it then?" she spat acidly, thoroughly confusing Harry, "Just sit and wait. Very nice. And when did you think you'd clue me in? Next week? Just have him saunter on over to the flat for breakfast one day and say 'Oh yeah, didn't you hear Gin? I'm all better now!'? Is that what you had in mind? You know, I don't really know what else I expected really. It's not like you three ever really clue me in anyway—you especially!"

With that, Ginny stormed down the hall and into the kitchen, not quite angry enough to abandon the apartment, in case Ron emerged curse-free, but needing to be away from Harry at the moment.

Harry simply continued to stare, completely dumbfounded, at the place Ginny had been standing. He was quite aware that he was usually clueless when it came to girls but he truly didn't have the faintest idea where all of that had come from—let alone what he was supposed to do about it.

"Yeesh… certainly a firecracker that one; I'nt she?"

Harry jumped yet again as George appeared in the hallway. Harry blinked, shook his head, and then blinked again. He was seriously beginning to doubt his sanity right now. Maybe he was more exhausted than he thought. When had George gotten here (and _why_ was he here for that matter)?

"Sorry mate, didn't mean to eavesdrop. Saves you having to explain it all over again though. Close your mouth already and stop blinking… you look like a prat."

Harry obeyed and finally seemed to make some sense of the last 3 minutes.

"Right… so uh… what in the world just happened?"

George couldn't help but laugh as he sank down next to Harry and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Ginny just screeched at you," George told him simply.

"Yes I'd gathered that much, thank you," Harry said irritably, "I just haven't got a clue _why_."

"Well you aren't seriously asking _me_ to explain it are you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "No. Of course not."

George just shook his head. "Alright I'm sorry Harry. I can see this is a rather stressful moment."

Harry gave George a look that clearly indicated that this had better not be a joke or an attempt at poking fun at him.

George held his hands up in defense. "No seriously, I'm sorry Harry. I know things are rough right now. Although…" he added, casting Harry a pointed look out of the corner of his eyes, "I would like to point out that you and Hermione aren't exactly the _only_ ones stressed out over the state of things."

Harry grimaced and thumped his head against the wall. The two Gryffindors sat in silence for a few minutes before Harry finally let out a frustrated sigh and hauled himself up off the floor. George inclined his head towards him to which Harry responded with a slight glare, and headed off towards the kitchen.

Ginny had her back to the kitchen entrance, ferociously chopping away at some carrots. She was determined not to think about what a git Harry was—never mind the fact that it suddenly occurred to her that she didn't even know what a git was exactly. It didn't matter. Harry was still a git.

"Ginny?"

Ginny didn't turn around and continued her assault on the vegetables, pausing only to light the stove beneath a pot of water.

"Yes Harry?" she said calmly, her voice cold.

"Erm…. Everything alright?" he asked lamely, walking up to the counter to stand next to her.

Ginny slammed her knife down with such force that a piece of carrot flew off the counter and nailed the lens of Harry's glasses, leaving a bright orange streak behind. Harry blinked in surprise and Ginny's hand froze mid-chop, her mouth open slightly.

The pair just starred at each other, unmoving.

"Uh… perhaps we should discuss this without the knife?" Harry suggested slowly, gently removing the knife from Ginny's hand.

Ginny seemed to recover from her shock and turned away from Harry to dump the carrots in the now boiling water.

"I'm sorry Harry," Ginny sighed. "I just…"

"Don't apologize, Ginny," Harry interrupted. "There's no reason to. I'm the one who should be sorry."

Ginny turned around at long last to face Harry. She studied him for a moment and then shook her head, walking away from him and towards the refrigerator.

"Do you want some pasta for dinner Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again, furrowing his brow.

"What? Gin… no… I don't want any pasta."

"You didn't have any dinner. You really ought to eat something. I'm making it anyway…"

Harry watched in confusion as Ginny continued to work over the stove, not looking at him.

"Ginny?"

"Yes Harry?" Ginny said, her voice still even, but void of its former venom.

"What do you mean '_Yes Harry?_'? _Talk _to me, will you?!" Harry sputtered, completely frustrated by her blatant avoidance of him.

Ginny turned around calmly and met Harry's gaze. Harry's breath caught in his throat and he forced himself to stay focused on more important matters. He felt like his brain had been tied into a knot and hoped vaguely that it was just from all his stress and confusion and not the tell tale sign of a migraine. Ginny was still gazing at him, her expression rather determined.

"Bloody annoying isn't it?" she said flatly.

"Huh?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip.

"It's rather frustrating to want someone to talk to you and have them blow you off, wouldn't you agree?" Harry opened his mouth but Ginny kept on going. "It wouldn't be so bad Harry, if you just left me out. I suppose I could get over it. But you _did_ assure me you weren't trying to handle all your problems alone… but, I mean, obviously what's the big deal with lying to your best friend's little sister? Anything to get her off your back, right? She's just the little girl who lives with the infamous '_Golden Trio'_ after all! Never mind the fact that one of the trio's precious members is her brother! You think this is easy for me—watching the three of you support each other while I just stand back and hold my own?! It isn't Harry! I don't have a damn trio! Friends, sure—but not like you three. It's not like you lot were the only ones fighting in the war ya know! I've got scars too, and I suffer my nightmares _alone_."

Harry stared at Ginny, his eyes wide as the youngest Weasley stood defiantly with unshed tears shining at the edges of her eyelids. He snapped out of his stunned stupor and stepped forward, completely unsure of what he was doing, and enveloped the tiny red head in a tight embrace, resting his chin on top of her head and threading a hand soothingly through her hair.

Ginny went completely rigid, stunned at Harry's sudden burst of affection, but then melted into him—inhaling the scent she had missed for nearly 3 years now and allowing herself to release just one of her tears.

"I'm so sorry Ginny," Harry said softly, shocked to find his voice filled with so much emotion.

Ginny didn't reply and simply allowed herself to be held for the moment. She hadn't meant to burst like that, but she was beginning to think that perhaps it had been a good idea.

Reality began to sink back in and Ginny slowly pulled away from Harry. She lifted her head to find him starring at her with determination.

"Ginny," he said, still unsure how to handle the emotions that were pulling him every which way, "We would be lost without you. All three of us. I'm so sorry that I never… that I never realized we were leaving you out."

Ginny shook her head. "That's nice of you to say Harry, but you three would be perfectly fine without me. You've relied on each other for so long…"

"_Ginny_…" Harry paused and inhaled deeply before meeting Ginny's eyes again, "_I_ would be lost without you."

Neither of them moved for several moments. Harry's hands rested forgotten on Ginny's hips as the pair just looked at each other.

Ginny tried to wrap her mind around what Harry had just told her. She didn't know what it was supposed to mean and vaguely wondered if Harry even knew. She was just so stressed out lately and now she'd gone and made a huge scene, once again managing to open an emotional can of worms. _Now_ who was the git.

The pair was jolted back to earth as the sounds of splashing and sizzling filled the kitchen as the water on the stove began to boil over. Ginny cursed under her breath and quickly turned back to the stove to tend to her dinner.

"Leave it Gin," Harry said suddenly, "We… I have some things I want to tell you."

Ginny arched an eyebrow and set the pot of water on a cool burner. Her pasta was way overcooked now anyway.

"Harry I've just been really stressed out lately. I didn't mean to snap like that. It's just with work and Ron and…"

"And my obnoxiously oblivious self," Harry interrupted her.

Ginny smirked slightly and shrugged.

"Listen, Ginny, I _did_ tell you I wasn't trying to handle everything alone and I'm not. I'm not trying to leave you out on purpose or anything. We've already established how hard it is for me to… to well… you know."

"Admit you have emotions," Ginny supplied.

Harry rolled his eyes and smiled lopsidedly at her. "Yeah… that. If it hadn't been for you though Gin, I wouldn't have even realized why I had a huge issue with that, ya know?"

Ginny didn't comment, and instead waited for Harry to continue.

"And… and I meant it. We, all three of us, really would be lost without you Ginny. Without you, I highly doubt we'd even have bothered getting jobs yet. We'd be complete recluses. I know you probably don't believe that but Ginny… seriously, you didn't see us while we were in Romania. It… it just wasn't pretty."

"Harry I… I didn't mean for you to have to make me feel important or something… honestly. I just… I…"

"You snapped Gin. We all need to snap from time to time. Besides, if you hadn't I wouldn't have had any idea you ever felt any of that stuff."

"I'm not supposed to snap," Ginny said softly. "I'm the strong one, remember?"

Harry blinked in surprise and tilted his head to the side.

"That doesn't make any sense Ginny."

"Neither does being terrified of letting someone in your life even after they've proved over and over again that they're trustworthy. It doesn't mean you don't still feel that way."

"Erm…"

"See."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. She had him there.

"I'm seeing a counselor," Harry blurted out quickly, shocking himself even as he said it.

Ginny blinked and wrinkled her nose. That was… well it was random was what it was.

"What?" she said blankly, unable to come up with anything more specific to ask.

Harry sighed again and bit his lip.

"I just… I'm seeing a counselor Gin. I figure if I'm paying someone to listen to all my problems then I don't have to feel like a burden. I mean, that's his job isn't it? Listen to people gab about their issues? I just figured it'd be easier all around and…"

"Harry," Ginny cut him off, "You don't have to explain why you're seeing a counselor. I think it's brilliant that you made that decision. I'm just… surprised, that's all."

Harry nodded uncomfortably and shifted his weight so that he was leaning against the counter. He didn't know why revealing to Ginny that he had gone and found himself a shrink had nearly given him an anxiety attack, but now that he'd gotten it out, he was actually quite relieved.

Ginny was still trying to process everything Harry had just told her. Usually whenever Harry actually revealed something big, it was just one small piece and she'd have loads of time to mull it over before he revealed something else. He appeared to be laying everything out on the table tonight though, and she really wasn't accustomed to it. Never mind the fact that she was running on hardly any sleep, stressed to her boiling point, and hadn't eaten since 11 AM.

"Charlie knew of this girl who saw a counselor, and so he recommended him to me," Harry said finally, "Wizards rarely go into counseling apparently, otherwise I'd try to find somebody a bit closer. I've been floo-ing to Charlie's and then apparating to the guy's office from there. Bloke's American actually… not exactly sure how he ended up in Romania but I suppose it doesn't really matter."

Ginny couldn't help but grin slightly. While her dear brother couldn't express himself verbally to save his life, Harry Potter became an absolute rambler when it came to stuff like this. He was always trying to justify himself… or something. A thought suddenly struck Ginny and she looked up at Harry with a start.

"That's why Charlie mentioned seeing you!"

"Huh?"

"Never mind… long story. Though it does end with me cursing rather colorfully at Padma Patil."

Harry arched an eyebrow but said nothing. He suddenly felt extremely drained but would have to remember to ask for details on that story later.

"Anyway," Ginny went on, "What do Ron and Hermione think about all this?"

"Uh…" Harry said, again running a hand through his hair. It had become a bit of a nervous habit. He certainly knew by now that his hair wasn't going to lie flat no matter what he did to it. "They don't know. I haven't told them. Oliver knows. I talk to him a bit. And Lupin. But… I haven't really… I just haven't bothered."

Ginny nodded slowly, the implication of being trusted with something in Harry's life before Ron and Hermione washing over her like an electric shock.

"Sorry for snapping," she said at last.

Harry grinned tiredly at her and shook his head.

"Don't be. I'm actually really glad you did."

The pair stood in the kitchen for a moment as they both tried to collect their thoughts. They had temporarily forgotten that Ron was currently locked in a battle to throw off a horrifying nightmare of a curse, but the knowledge now hung silently between them.

"Ginny… how bout you teach me to cook something."

"What?" Ginny asked, laughing at Harry's sudden break in the silence.

"Seriously. It's a bit pathetic that the only thing I can cook effectively is breakfast food. Honestly I don't know why other foods should be so different, but every time I've tried…"

"Has been a complete disaster, I know," Ginny finished for him. "Well, we can start again with the pasta. It's pretty hard to really mess up pasta."

"Oh I'm sure I'll find a way," Harry said, laughing, "I'm quite gifted that way."

111111111111111111111111

Hermione bit her lip and continued to run her fingers through Ron's mass of tangled red hair. She had given him the potion nearly two hours ago and he was still asleep. Her biggest fear for the first thirty minutes had been that the potion hadn't done at all what it was supposed to. Ron had simply fallen asleep and begun writhing in protest as he always did.

However, in her attempts to somehow give him something to focus on, Hermione had continuously whispered to him, gripping his hand and brushing her fingers over his forehead soothingly. Just when she had been about to admit defeat, Ron had suddenly gripped her hand tightly in return—something he had most certainly not done before now. She knew he had some conscious awareness of things; the rest was up to him.

Ron suddenly let out a roar of frustration in his sleep and thrashed wildly, yanking Hermione's arm with him.

"Shhh, Ron, it's ok," Hermione pleaded, "I'm safe. I'm right here Ron. Fight it; I know you can do this!"

Hermione squeezed her eyes closed tightly and curled up next to Ron, still gripping his hand, and leaned in close to his ear.

"Relax Ron," she whispered, hoping that she was effectively hiding the emotion in her voice. She didn't want him to think she was distraught—he had to know she was safe. "I know you can do this. You're… you have to. I know you're strong enough."

Ron's hand clenched tightly around Hermione's and she pressed herself closer to him. They had never let him sleep for this long before and Ron had made it clear that the longer he slept, the more drastic things got for him. Hermione didn't want to think about that right now though. She stroked the back of Ron's hand and continued to whisper to him—and she would continue to do so for as long as it took.

She didn't know how long it went on. It could have been days and Hermione wouldn't have known the difference. It seemed that Ron was once again suffering the physical effects of the curse and he writhed all the more for it. Hermione doubted it would be worth forcing some of Nigellus' potion down his throat. She wasn't sure how much good it would even do.

"It's not your fault Ron. It's not really happening. It…" Hermione stopped and, gritting her teeth, she pulled away from Ron's ear and hovered over his face. "Bugger it all… _Ronald Billius Weasely_ get your act together! I can't take this anymore now snap out of it!"

Hermione's eyes widened as Ron's free hand flew up to cover the hand that was still tightly threaded with Ron's fingers. She hadn't actually expected him to react.

"Ron?"

Ron squeezed her hand between both of his before arching his back in pain. Hermione's heart hammered inside her chest as she remained hovering above Ron's face, their hands clasped tightly on top of his chest.

"Get up Ron," she said firmly, her tone matching the one she usually reserved for convincing Ron and Harry to do their homework back in their Hogwarts days. "I mean it Ronald. Get. _UP_!"

Ron's eyes suddenly flew open and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. He sat up so fast that he knocked Hermione quite forcefully in the head with his shoulder, but she couldn't have cared less at the moment. Ron was shaking from head to foot, his eyes frantically taking in his surroundings as he drew gasping, shuddering breaths.

Hermione put a hand tentatively on Ron's shoulder and he turned slightly to look at her, his expression still terrified. Without a word, he brought a shaking hand to Hermione's face and threaded his fingers behind her head.

Hermione stayed silent, biting her lip as Ron continued to look at her as though he'd never seen her before. Her eyes widened as Ron's own blue orbs filled with silent tears. Hermione had seen Ron cry on more than one occasion, but he'd never done it in front of her willingly before. For the first time, Hermione allowed herself to really think about what it must be like to witness something like Ron had under this sodding curse.

She immediately wished she hadn't.

Ron wordlessly pulled Hermione to his chest, wrapping his still shaking arms protectively around her and allowing silent tears to fall into her hair. Hermione stayed silent, and allowed him his tears. She'd certainly need a few minutes to collect herself had she been in his shoes.

"I love you Hermione," Ron said quietly.

Hermione tensed in Ron's hold, stunned at the sudden confession. She didn't know how things had evolved so quickly between her and Ron, but they had… and so here they were. She had known for ages that she loved Ron, but that didn't mean she had been ready to tell him so. It was funny really; she had always imagined she would be the one to say it first.

"I love you too."

Ron fell back into his pillows, pulling Hermione down with him.

"Sorry for the lack of romance in the moment," he muttered.

Hermione shook her head and gently kissed Ron's temple.

"Go to sleep Ron. You deserve some actual rest."

Ron didn't need telling twice. His eyes fluttered closed and for the first time in nearly two months, Ron fell into a well earned, peaceful sleep.

* * *

**A/N**: I decided to give you guys a break with the cliffies so that Bishop's old heart won't fail and Dune Scribe's butt won't fall off.

Next chapter transitions our trio before the next band of storms from this hurricane of a story blows through. (Forgive the hurricane analogy; I live in Florida). Anyway, more specifically, Ron goes back to training, Harry and Ginny have a moment, and Hermione finally meets with McGonagal (which I'm sure you are all thinking will be a very cliche idea, but I'm hoping that at least SOME of it is original and slightly creative on my part).

**Review Responses:**

Jbouch- Thanks so much. :-) I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Mel- Rule #1: Never apologize for a long review lol. Seriously, thanks for your feedback, as always. I hope Harry and Remus get to have some more interaction in the last book. Remus has so much insight to offer and Harry is sure as heck going to need it. Also, I'm so glad you're liking the Harry and Ron moments because they're my favorite to write. This fic was originally going to have a Ron and Harry friendship focus lol, but it didn't quite end up that way. I love their relationship in the books, and if Rowling kills Ron I don't think I'll be able to handle it.

**As always, Please Review :-)**


	15. Unsaid

**Chapter 14: Unsaid**

_Harry sat at the edge of his cot, head in his hands and biting his lip. He winced as yet another roar rose up from the kitchen of the burrow. Not for the first time, Harry considered just how much he was tearing this family apart. _

_Ron was currently downstairs, informing his mum and dad that he would not be returning to Hogwarts in September, and would instead be following Harry on some half-baked mission to find pieces of Voldermort's soul._

_Harry had simply disappeared after dinner, knowing by the look on Ron's face that tonight was to be the night. He had never seen Ron look so determined before. It was almost unnerving really._

_Ron's voice filtered through the cracked doorway and Harry would have been slightly impressed under any other circumstances. No one, especially not Ron, spoke to Mrs. Weasley that way._

"_I'm of age! I'm doing this with or without your permission! I won't leave him now! I can't! Don't you see that?!"_

_Harry felt a pang in his chest as Ron's voice traveled all the way into the tiny attic bedroom. _

_Unable to listen anymore, Harry got up and closed the door. He stood in Ron's room for a moment and found himself staring longingly at the armoire. With a heavy sigh (and an inward kick in the arse for being such a baby), Harry crawled into the tight space and closed himself in._

_Harry scooted himself as far into the corner as he could manage and pulled his knees to his chest. He leaned into the wall and pressed his face up against the wood, ignoring the twinge of pain from where his glasses pressed into his flesh. _

"_Some warrior," he muttered dismally._

_He wasn't sure how long he was in the armoire for. The shouts from the kitchen had died down but there was still the occasional emotional sob and Harry had no desire to come out yet. _

_It came as quite a surprise to Harry when the door suddenly swung open. He screwed his face up against the sudden flood of light as Ginny let out a small yelp of surprise._

"_Er…"_

_Ginny just starred at Harry, Ron's dress robes in her hand, freshly pressed from the wedding. Harry had dropped his face to his knees as though attempting to pretend she wasn't there. He was utterly mortified at having Ginny find him sitting in a dark armoire for Merlin's sake. He didn't know what to say or even how to explain it._

_Ginny felt like her heart was snapping into a thousand pieces as she looked at Harry, still curled tightly against himself, his face hidden. _

"_Harry?"_

_Harry didn't respond and Ginny shoved the robes to one side, climbing into the armoire with him. _

_When Harry realized it had suddenly gone dark again, he lifted his head to find Ginny looking at him, her face illuminated by her lit wand lying between them._

_Without planning to, Ginny leaned forward and caught Harry's lips in her own. Even as she was leaning forward, she knew he was going to stop her—to pull away as soon as he registered what was happening. She wasn't his to kiss, and Harry being the noble prat he was, would recognize this._

_But he didn't. _

_Instead, Harry deepened the kiss and pulled Ginny towards him, wrapping his arms around her thin frame and holding on for what felt like dear life. Ginny ran both hands through his messy black hair and pulled him closer, not wanting reality back—not wanting the moment to end, now or ever. _

_Harry moaned nearly imperceptibly as Ginny adjusted herself so that she was in his lap, allowing him to pull her closer. He couldn't recall ever having kissed Ginny with such… passion. They'd had their heated moments, yes. But this… this was different. He couldn't even recall being this passionate about anything before. It terrified and excited him all at once. _

_To hell with Voldermort. To hell with only being 17. To hell with all of it. All that mattered to him for the moment was Ginny, even if it was just for a moment._

_With a jolt, reality came rushing back and Harry and Ginny both broke apart, gasping slightly and gulping for air they hadn't realized they'd lost. _

_Ginny slowly removed herself from Harry's lap and sat silently at his side, neither of them saying a word for several moments._

"_Ginny… I'm so sorry. I shouldn't ha…"_

"_Don't," Ginny said firmly. "I know this doesn't change anything Harry. I… I know."_

_Harry bit his lip and leaned his head back against the wall of the armoire. _

"_Are you ok?" Ginny asked softly, still not looking at him._

"_I… huh?"_

"_You were sitting alone in an armoire Harry," Ginny said patiently, "Are you ok?"_

_Harry felt himself blush and was glad Ginny's wand light was now partially concealed by her pant leg. _

"_I um… yeah. Yeah, I'm ok."_

"_Liar," Ginny replied softly, "I know why you're in here Harry."_

_The pair sat in silence for awhile. Ginny knew full well why Harry frequented closets. It wasn't one of his prouder hobbies, but he had confided in her only a few months ago that there was just something calming about it. He had spent the first 11 years of his life living in one after all._

_Ginny moved so that she could face Harry properly. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up at her, embarrassment etched across his features. _

"_It's time to get out of the cupboard Harry," she whispered._

"_Yeah, I know," Harry said, making a move to get up._

"_Not this one Harry," Ginny said firmly, "Not this one."_

_Harry starred at Ginny in stunned silence. She never ceased to amaze him with just how accurately she could peg him. It was frightening to think about. The cupboard she was referring to was at Privet Drive. That cupboard was where Harry spent his life before the wizarding world—before he knew the truth about his parents' death; his fate; Voldermort's name. _

"_Yeah," he said slowly, "Yeah, it is."_

1111111111111111111111111111111111

A week after successfully throwing off the wretched insomnia curse, Ron was up and about, nearly back to his old self save for being a bit weak. He had slept for pretty much three days solid, waking only to accept food and drink from whoever was 'on duty' at the time before falling back into blissfully dreamless sleep. His illnesses had, as Hermione had told everyone they would, taken care of themselves once he had gotten proper rest.

Breakfast on Saturday morning found the foursome chatting away at the girls' flat, glad to be operating on a more human schedule for the first time in ages. Ginny was trying in vain to get everyone, Ron and Hermione in particular, caught up with everything they'd missed recently. She had pretty much just held all their mail and messages, knowing that Ron was too sick and Hermione was too distracted to really do much about any of it.

"…and Ron, Healer Owenson wants to see you as soon as… Ron are you even listening to me?" Ginny demanded, brandishing the stack parchment she was holding across the table.

Ron looked up from his own parchment in surprise.

"Sorry Gin, what were you saying?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and went on, "Healer Owenson wants to see you as soon as possible. He said that…"

"Oi Harry, fancy going to the pickup match tomorrow afternoon?" Ron said suddenly, "I'm dying to get outside and the weather is actually half way decent. I know Dean will be thrilled to not have to play Keeper anymore."

"You are not going to play quidditch tomorrow Ron. You're still recuperating," Hermione chided.

Ginny threw her arms in the air and let the letters she was holding loose, scattering them around the kitchen. "I give up," she muttered in exasperation.

She was too thrilled to see Ron back to his old self to truly be annoyed though—not that she'd let him know that.

"Oh come on Hermione, what's the big deal? I'm perfectly fine now. I'm the one training to be a Healer aren't I? I think that gives me every right to asses my own health."

Hermione snorted into her pumpkin juice and turned to give Ron an incredulous look.

"I really can't believe you're trying to play that card. You may be training to be a Healer Ron, but you aren't one yet. Even if you were, it doesn't mean you'd know what was best for you. You're a stubborn Weasley; all the professional training in the world won't help that."

Ron huffed and looked to Harry for help who wisely just shrugged.

"You're on your own mate."

Ron sighed and turned his attention back to his eggs, furrowing his brow.

"These look awful."

Ginny rolled her eyes again and shook her head. She caught Hermione's eye and the girls both had to stifle their laughter. Harry on the other hand, was not impressed.

"What do you mean they look awful? I know how to cook breakfast Ron. You asked for sunny side up so that's what I made you, now eat the damn things before the novelty of you being better wears off and I hex you from the dinning room!"

Ron wrinkled his nose and stabbed at his eggs, grudgingly taking a bite.

"Hermione makes them much better," he mumbled.

Ginny nearly choked on her toast as she laughed and Harry thumped her on the back until she'd managed to settle back down.

"Alright there?"

"Yes," Ginny said forcefully, her eyes stinging with tears as she determinedly plowed on. "Now, if you've quite finished being so utterly rude," she said to Ron, "May I finish relaying all of your messages? Or would you rather make sense of this mess of parchment yourself?"

Ron at least had the decency to look sheepish as he smiled at her.

"Right," Ginny summoned the parchment back to her hand and began to scan through them. "Healer Owenson said to be ready to sit that exam when you get back. Just owl him to let him know when that will be."

Ron shuffled his plate around and pulled a quill from Hermione's hair (earning a deep blush from the brunette—she'd completely forgotten she'd left it there). Ron scribbled a quick reply to Healer Owenson, letting him know he'd be prepared to sit the exam Monday morning, and jerked his head at Pig who dutifully flew forward to accept the letter.

"You also need to get yourself over to Madam Malkin's to get fitted for your dress robes," Ginny continued.

"Huh?" Ron asked, looking up from the parchment that Hermione was now charming to be spelled correctly with a roll of her eyes. ("Honestly Ronald, _prepaired_? What do they teach wizards at primary level?")

"Dress robes… Fred and Angelina's wedding. You're a groomsman, remember? Anyway… Hermione. McGonagal sent word that she's ready to see you at your 'earliest convenience.' Just make sure you give her a couple days notice."

"This is rather entertaining wouldn't you agree?" Harry said, "A few months ago, we didn't even want to go outside and yet in two months we've accumulated so much mail it's like we've been away on holiday for a year!"

"Worst bloody holiday I've ever had mate," Ron said darkly.

"Alright, alright. I think that's all the major stuff," Ginny interjected, rifling through the stack of letters, "Though you did get a letter from Dean begging you to get yourself better. He says 'Being Keeper is bloody boring and I don't know how you can possibly stand playing such a pansy position.'" Ginny said with a smirk.

Ron's jaw dropped in outrage and Harry roared with laughter along with Ginny.

Hermione arched an eyebrow and turned to Ron.

"Don't worry about him. Dean just doesn't have the skill to be a Keeper and so he's probably just tired of looking bad. Dean has horrid balance and lacks the patience of a good Keeper. He's only decent at Chasing because it keeps him moving and so balance is less important. He moves fast; again, good for a chaser. But he doesn't _think_ fast—obviously a weak point if you're a Keeper and have to make split decisions about what goal to protect."

Everyone at the table turned to gape at Hermione in shock, Ron included.

"Since when do you know anything about what types of players are better for what position?" Ginny asked. She hadn't even realized Hermione knew what a Chaser even _did_, much less what qualities it took to make a good one.

Hermione flushed and dropped her gaze to her plate.

"Since Ron made the team 5th year," she mumbled.

The table was quiet for a brief second before laughter once again broke out.

"You're bloody brilliant, ya know that?" Ron said, leaning in to kiss Hermione's cheek.

"Oh, honestly," Hermione huffed, rising from the table and collecting everyone's dishes.

"Come on Harry," Ron said, rising as well, "I've got to get all those ruddy books sorted out now that I don't have the excuse of feeling lousy."

"I don't see what that has to do with me," Harry teased, but got up from the table regardless.

Ron shot him a smug look and the two disapparated to their flat, leaving Hermione and Ginny surrounded by dirty dishes and parchment scraps.

Ginny looked up at Hermione and shook her head, gesturing to the mess.

"That's it Hermione; we're moving. We just won't tell them where."

Hermione laughed and pulled out her wand.

"Or better yet, we just won't remind them of housekeeping charms and make them clean up after dinner without their wands," Hermione suggested.

With a flick of her wrist the dishes banished themselves to the sink and began to wash themselves.

"Oh bugger all," Ginny said suddenly, "I forgot to mention lunch next weekend… the whole Weasley clan. Mum says we'd all better be there."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at being referred to as part of the 'whole Weasley clan,' and suppressed a blush as the idea of _actually_ being a Weasley entered her mind. '_Oh grow up,'_ she told herself tersely, '_honestly, when did I get so mushy?'_

"What's the occasion?" Hermione asked, shaking herself out of her internal conversation.

"Not sure," Ginny answered, "but I have a good guess. I'll bet you anything that Fleur's pregnant."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise as she looked over at Ginny, who seemed completely unfazed by this as she began to neatly stack the mail that had been scattered around the table.

"Really?"

"Sure," Ginny said with a shrug, "Can't imagine what else it would be. Bill never initiates these types of things but he was insistent everyone be there."

Hermione grinned at the idea of a new Weasley. Molly was going to be an absolute knot of excitement.

Hermione winced slightly and the smile melted from her face. She ignored it, as usual, and rose from the table.

11111111111111111111111111

"Mr. Weasley—come in, take a seat."

Ron nervously sat down in front of the wide oak desk in Healer Owenson's office. He had been expecting to be able to just take his examination, sit in on the rest of his class, and then head home but a receptionist had chased him down just before he made it out of the building.

"I've reviewed your exam," the Healer said simply, taking a seat across from Ron.

"Already?" Ron asked, rather surprised. It had taken him all morning and part of the afternoon to complete the stupid thing and the chief-of-staff had already gone over it?

Healer Owenson smiled and nodded. Ron just continued to look nervously at him. Healer Owenson was stout with squared shoulders and reminded Ron ever so slightly of an aged Viktor Krum. He was far less gruff sounding than Krum had been though, and Ron had to admit he was grateful for that. His last personal interview with a Healer had left the redhead practically shouting to defend himself. He wasn't keen to repeat the scenario.

"Am… am I still allowed in the program sir?" Ron asked nervously. He hadn't thought the exam had gone that bad really, but tests had never exactly been a strong point for him—more of a nightmare for him really.

Healer Owneson simply looked at Ron with curiosity and Ron began to feel a bit agitated. The man was really being quite unhelpful.

At long last, Owenson sat down across the desk and folded his hands on top of it.

"You really are for real then?"

Ron sighed and barely suppressed rolling his eyes. He really didn't want to have to go through this again.

"Forgive me," Owenson said, sounding quite sincere about it, "I'm sure you understand why I needed to make the judgment for myself?"

Ron hesitated and then reluctantly nodded. It was actually a bit comforting to think that at least the Healing profession was a bit saner than the ministry was.

"Don't worry Mr. Weasley, you've passed."

Ron visibly relaxed and then began to eye Healer Owenson curiously.

"Not to worry son, I interview all of the potential new Healers in the program. You missed the first round."

Ron nodded, finally feeling a bit more at ease now that he knew there wasn't anything too concerning about this meeting. He was actually quite stunned to be referred to as 'son.' Most of the wizarding world addressed him as their senior—as though he were older and wiser. It was a habit that made Ron so nervous he often had to just keep his mouth shut for fear of what may come out of it. He could address crowds and groups—they were nameless faces—but the minister of magic referring to him as sir? That was just too much.

"Brains alone don't make a good Healer," Owenson went on, "I like to make sure anyone I train in the profession fully grasps that. The last thing we need are a bunch of hot-headed Healers strutting around thinking they're something special because they got a whole load of NEWTS. I'll be meeting with all of the Healer candidates several times to be sure they are not only keeping up with the coursework, but also to determine their potential in the field as a whole. I can tell you now that some of the students in your course will not become Healers. Jr. Healers perhaps, but not Healers," Owenson paused here and looked significantly at Ron, 'Are we clear about that Mr. Weasley? I make those calls; is that understood?"

Ron nodded again and continued to just sit silently in front of the desk. Healer Owenson smiled slightly and let out a small laugh.

"I'm not trying to intimidate you into silence my dear boy!"

"Oh, I wasn't intimidated sir," Ron replied quickly, "I'm just not quite sure what you want me to say. No offence, but compared to the last interview I had for this program, you're practically a pygmy puff."

Owenson laughed again and shook his head. "Yes, well, my apologies for that—Healer Stine can be a bit, er… harsh. But let's move on shall we? I really want to discuss your exam with you. You see, there were several topics that have not been discussed in the course, and yet you seemed to answer nearly all of those questions quite accurately."

Ron blinked in surprise. Perhaps he had been channeling Hermione; how else would he have done so well on a test? Did daydreaming about her count? Probably not, but still…

"Is um… is that a problem sir?" Ron asked.

Healer Owenson chuckled and began shuffling through a stack of parchment which Ron recognized as his essays from the exam.

"It's not at all a problem. It's quite impressive considering how ill you must have been. _Insomnioto_, thrown in two months! Is that correct?"

"Yeah," Ron muttered a bit darkly.

"Mmm, yes. Not a pretty curse. Takes quite a strong character to throw it off as early as you seem to have done. In all honesty, I did not expect your return. Not as a student anyway."

"My girlfriend had a hand in that actually sir. She's bloody brilliant."

Owenson arched an eyebrow and looked curiously at Ron.

"She did something to a sleeping potion," Ron explained, "Made me… what was it she said? Lucid? Gave me something to focus on while…" Ron trailed off and Owenson nodded in silent understanding.

"Very impressive. I should like to meet her at some point. Now then Mr. Weasley, I realize that while you're quite polite and soft spoken in here, that most certainly doesn't reflect your true character."

"Huh?" Ron replied, not sure what that was supposed to mean and slightly startled by the abrupt turn in the conversation.

"Well for starters," Owenson replied, grinning down at the parchment in front of him, "I don't believe a trainee has ever sworn quite so brilliantly in one of their formal essays before."

Ron's ears burned bright red and he dropped his gaze from Healer Owenson's. Ok, so maybe he hadn't been channeling Hermione's brain power.

"Let me see here," Owenson mumbled, pulling out one of the essays, "Ah yes, '_Just bugger it all and shove a bloody bezoar down the stupid bloke's throat. It's a hell of a lot quicker than the revealing incantations. I know I certainly wouldn't give a damn what poison I'd been given, just so long as it was stopped from harming me.'_"

Healer Owenson looked up, his expression amused, while Ron sat awkwardly in his chair, his face now entirely crimson.

"I added what the revealing incantations are at the end… if that helps," Ron mumbled.

Owenson laughed and tossed the essay back into the stack. "What made you think of a bezoar? You knew the answer we were looking for were those incantations…"

Ron ran a hand nervously over his hair and looked back up at Healer Owenson.

"Well yeah, I did know that. But it's not what I would have done sir. I was poisoned my 6th year at Hogwarts, and if it hadn't been for a bezoar, I'd be dead. There wasn't any time for wand waving and figuring out what type of poison it was. Besides, I'm a rubbish potionist. I wouldn't trust myself to brew an antidote and who knows how long I'd have to wait for an available potionist."

Healer Owenson watched Ron steadily, as though sizing him up. "Mr. Weasley," he said at last, leaning forward to look closely at Ron, "Have you considered what specialty you would like to pursue once you've completed Jr. Training?"

"Uh… I hadn't gotten that far, no," Ron admitted.

Healer Owenson nodded. "Another purpose of these interviews is to help you figure that out as well. Once you complete your preliminary training at the end of August, you begin to serve as an assisting Jr. Healer. From then on, how quickly you move up is entirely up to you and your abilities. From assisting Jr. Healer, you move on to Jr. Healer, then to General Healer, and finally Specialized Healer. Once you've passed your examinations to be made a Jr. Healer, which I have no doubt you'll do quite well on, and quite quickly for that matter…"

"Really?" Ron interrupted in surprise. He couldn't recall a teacher ever telling him that they didn't think he'd have a problem passing an exam.

The Healer smiled in amusement and nodded his head. "Yes, really. You really have no idea just how talented you are in this field, do you Mr. Weasley?"

Ron just sat in silence, slightly thunderstruck.

"In any case," Owenson continued, "You may want to consider Emergency Response as your specialized area. I think you just may possess the spirit and quick thinking needed for such an area. No doubt your experience during the war will help you as well."

"I'll uh… yeah I'll consider that," Ron managed, recovering from his shock, but only slightly.

"Good. Very well then; I've kept you long enough. I'll be seeing you again before long. Keep up with the good work Mr. Weasley."

Ron stood and took Healer Owenson's extended hand and shook it.

"Call me Ron," he said, smiling, "I figure if I've got as much 'spirit' in me as you seem to think, I'm not quite ready to be referred to as a Mr."

Healer Owenson laughed as he shook Ron's hand.

"It would be an honor."

11111111111111111111111111

Ginny, Harry and George sat around the living room of Harry's flat, not quite willing to admit they were bored.

George had become something of a frequent guest at the foursome's apartment complex in the last two weeks. No one asked him why he'd begun to show up more and more often, much to George's relief. They all knew he was slowly weaning himself away from his twin—though when the pair was together, no one would ever guess anything was different between the two of them. That was how Fred and George both wanted it. They would always be Fred and George as far as they were concerned; it was just going to be… different.

Ron, as promised, had taken Hermione out for their first official date. Everyone was rather amused by this seeing as Ron and Hermione were closer to being an old grey couple than a couple of teenagers going on a first date. Ron refused to acknowledge their incessant teasing however; he was still too elated about being healthy again, and too excited that he could actually behave like a decently normal boyfriend, to care what anyone else thought. Harry and Ginny were actually secretly proud of him for it.

"We could play exploding snap," Ginny suggested mildly, sprawled, rather unladylike, across the sofa with her hair fanned out behind her.

Harry, whose posture matched Ginny's from the armchair across the room, arched an eyebrow and laughed.

"Exploding snap on a Friday night? Thrilling."

"I don't see you coming up with anything better," Ginny retorted. "And since when do you want to do anything _social_?"

"Yeah… well… we must be able to do better than exploding snap."

Silence fell again for a moment before Ginny suddenly piped up again.

"_Strip_ exploding snap?"

Harry's eyes widened as he snapped his head towards Ginny in shock, though such a comment from the red head really shouldn't have surprised him.

"Uhg, brother in the room!" George announced from his perch on the living room floor.

Ginny rolled her eyes and snorted. "Like I was serious."

"I dunno Gin," Harry said, "I wouldn't put it past you."

"Ok seriously," George interrupted, "I'm going to see if Lee has plans. You kids have fun playing exploding snap- and Harry if I hear that so much as a sock left Ginny's body…"

"Oh, go on George," Ginny cut him off.

George smirked playfully and stuck an arm out to Harry who grudgingly shifted in his armchair to pull George off the floor. George surveyed Harry and Ginny for a moment, biting his tongue as he usually did when he was around the two of them. George rarely held his tongue for anyone though, least of all for family members.

"I'll see you kiddies later," he said, preparing to apparate. He stopped suddenly however, and turned to face his youngest sibling and Harry, who were both still sprawled on their respective pieces of furniture with bored expressions.

"Rather than play exploding snap, Harry here could stop being outrageously thick and take you out Gin."

With a trademark Weasley Twin grin, and a sarcastic wink in Harry's direction, George apparated out of the living room and left Harry and Ginny in stunned silence. They should have known he wouldn't be able to hold his tongue forever.

Nearly a full minute went by before Harry awkwardly cleared his throat and sat up a little in his chair.

"Er… Ginny?"

"Mmm?"

"Want to go to the pub? Seamus'?"

"Be a bit like we were spying on Ron and Hermione, don't you think?" Ginny said smoothly, trying to ignore the pounding in her chest.

It was odd to her that she could be completely comfortable around Harry one minute, and then so clueless and uneasy the next. The last time Harry had asked her to go to Seamus' pub with him, the circumstances had just been… different. Now, it was like she was a 5th year all over again, trying to determine whether or not some bloke's invitation to Hogsmeade was a date or just friendly, while still maintaining a casual air about it.

"Dinner then?" Harry said, sending Ginny's usually very collected thoughts into a downward spiral once again.

Ginny looked up at last, slightly surprised to find Harry looking straight at her. There was something there that she hadn't seen in a very long time—a longing that she couldn't quite place, and a little bit of fear as well.

There were so many unsaid things between Harry and Ginny. Both of them knew it, and neither one of them necessarily liked it that way. It was just that the idea of crossing that huge distance of unspoken words seemed so… so difficult somehow. Where would they even start? Gaining back the friendship that had disappeared was one thing; Ginny had no problem with handling that. Harry had just needed the appropriate prodding. But rebuilding the relationship they once had? That was an entirely different matter, and despite the fact Ginny knew she loved Harry, she didn't pretend to know exactly how to love the Harry who had survived the war—the Harry who sat in front of her today.

. The shift in her and Harry's relationship had been abrupt and gradual all at the same time. She had needed to be the dominant and certain one of the pair of them. She had needed to show him that they were still able to have a friendship after so much time. Now that she had his friendship again though, everything else was uncertain. She wasn't nearly as confident. She hated it.

Ginny was so caught up in her thoughts that she forgot for a moment that she was supposed to be answering a question.

"Er… Ginny? I um… we don't have to… I mean…"

Ginny started and forced her gaze away from Harry's.

"No! I mean… I'm sorry. Dinner would be great Harry."

Harry visibly relaxed in relief and met Ginny's eyes once more.

And there it was again—all of those unsaid words between them. He felt he may drown if he ever tried to brave those waters. But he knew he'd have to… eventually, and for the first time in ages, Harry realized that he _wanted_ to. Harry wanted to say everything to her—to let her in as he had done once before. Trouble was, he wasn't sure he could remember how.

"Right," he said, before he could think too much about it, "Fancy something casual or would you rather it be something a bit nicer?"

1111111111111111

Hermione couldn't help but smile as she walked down the corridor towards McGonagal's office. She loved the very air of Hogwarts. It filled her with more memories and emotions than she could even handle at one time. She knew Ron and Ginny had a love for Hogwarts, but only Harry could fully appreciate what it meant to Hermione. She and Harry had never known of the magical world before Hogwarts. Ron and Ginny had always been part of it, but for Harry and Hermione… it all began here.

Sighing contentedly, Hermione absently played with the delicate gold chain around her neck as she stepped onto the revolving staircase spiraling towards the headmistress' office. The chain bore a small pendant in the shape of a quill: simple, but still quite pretty and perfectly… _her._ She had seen it on her date with Ron the night before and casually commented that she liked it. Ron, much to her horror (and perhaps a small amount of delight), had insisted on buying it for her on the spot. She argued with him for a good 10 minutes about it until he finally took her gently by the shoulders and looked directly at her.

"_Hermione," he said slowly, "I have spent my entire life wishing for money so I could have _things_. Now that I have it, I'd give anything to have never received it. I'd rather have lived my entire life dirt poor and at peace than fight a war and be showered with fame, glory, and riches. I've learned not to take anything for granted after what I saw over the last few years and that includes money. But damnit Hermione, just this one time, let me live a moment I used to only dream was possible. I know you don't want it or that you don't think it's necessary or anything like that, but you deserve nice things anyway. So please let me do this… please?"_

Hermione had been so stunned by his impromptu speech that all she could do was gape at him and then slowly nod her ascent. It could have been a biscuit for all she cared, anything Ron bought for her in that moment would have meant more to her than any gift she'd ever received.

"Afternoon Ms. Granger."

Hermione smiled up at her former professor and entered the office. She was smiling an awful lot lately—ever since Ron had broken the curse and told her he loved her it seemed as though there was no wrong in the world. She knew it wasn't so of course. Harry was still torn up from the inside out, as they all were for that matter, Ginny was unusually moody, George was learning to cope with life without his twin, Mrs. Weasley still floo'd at least twice a day to be sure Ron truly was well, and the trio still dreaded the night and the harsh memories it brought them. The list went on and on.

But for now, those realities seemed somehow dimmer. If Hermione had learned anything in the last two years, it was that no moment of peace should be overlooked. Every good thing should be celebrated as far as she was concerned. Being in love with a healthy man who loved her in return certainly fell into the category of 'good' in her book.

"Good afternoon Professor."

McGonagal smiled and gestured to the open seat in front of her desk.

"I suppose telling you there is no need to call me 'professor' would be pointless?"

Hermione suppressed a laugh and nodded. Despite working closely with her former professor with the Order, Hermione doubted she would ever be able to call McGonagal anything other than 'professor.' Harry even still called Lupin by the title. It was something they would simply never grow out of.

"Will you ever stop addressing me as Ms. Granger?" she asked, a hint of a smile giving away her attempts at feigning seriousness. She and McGonagal had always privately enjoyed verbal sparring. It was quite different than the shouting they did at students and thick headed red heads, respectively.

"Oh, I imagine so," McGonagal replied without missing a beat, "It would be highly inappropriate for me to call you Ms. Granger after your name becomes Mrs. Weasley. We'll give it a bit though, shall we?"

Hermione's jaw dropped, all pretenses of professionalism escaping the room. Few former students could converse as casually with Minerva McGonagal as Hermione did. Ron still came close to stuttering in the witch's presence even after two years worth of Order mission interaction. He'd even spared her from a curse or two in battle, but could still not bring himself to joke with her as Hermione did.

This comment however, had stunned even Hermione.

McGonagal smiled openly at Hermione's expression.

"I so enjoy shocking my former students with the truth that I do have a sense of humor after all. Feel free to close your mouth dear."

Hermione shook herself and clamped her jaw shut, relaxing only slightly at the amusement shimmering behind McGonagal's eyes.

"Anyway, Ms. Granger, I imagine you're interested to know what it is I wanted to meet with you about, so I'll get to the point."

Hermione smiled, her shock now completely worn off. McGonagal had always been her favorite professor. Clear and to the point with a grace and elegance to go with it—Hermione couldn't help but be endeared.

"I don't know if you had any specific careers in mind Ms. Granger, but I imagine that the war sidetracked any plans you might have had."

That was certainly an understatement. Few people knew just how devastating not returning for her final year of school was for Hermione. She never once voiced it—Harry's guilt complex was bad enough. Yet it still pained her that she didn't have a completed education.

McGonagal peered at Hermione's pained smile before pushing her spectacles further back on her nose and leaning forward slightly.

"We all gave things up Ms. Granger, but now is the time to put pieces back where they belong, yes?"

Hermione looked up at her former professor and nodded, taking comfort in the fact that McGonagal, at least, understood.

"What do you know," McGonagal began, "about furthering studies in the magical world?"

Hermione looked up, rather startled. "I um… I wasn't really aware that there were any. I've never read of any wizarding universities or things of that nature."

"Well you wouldn't have," McGonagal replied, "Things don't work quite like that in our world. However, though independent study can teach you many things, every student needs a teacher. For those who wish to pursue a broader education, a proper tutor or mentor is usually sought after. Dumbledore for example, received at least a couple owls a month requesting mentorship from witches and wizards across the globe."

"Did he ever accept them?" Hermione asked, thinking that surely she would have met Dumbledore's personal students if he'd had them.

"Unfortunately, no. He had… other things to do."

A soft chuckle filled the office and Hermione spun around in her chair to find Dumbledore's portrait laughing softly from his frame.

"So sorry, do continue," he said, smiling at the two women.

McGonagal shook her head at Dumbledore (and if Hermione didn't know any better she would have said McGonagal rolled her eyes at him) and the headmistress turned her attention back to Hermione once more.

"In short Ms. Granger, you are a very capable and bright young witch. If you are interested, I would like to offer you schooling from some of the wisest wizards and witches our world has ever seen…"

"Oh, headmistress, you flatter me," a snide voice interrupted.

Hermione lifted her head in confusion towards the portrait of Nigellus and then looked back towards McGonagal. The headmistress sighed heavily and turned to give Nigellus a very stern look.

"As I was saying," she continued firmly, "The headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts have occasionally banned together to teach young witches or wizards all that they know. A sort of 'university staff of portraits,' if you will. If you're interested Ms. Granger, I would like very much for you to continue your magical education. You have far too much potential not to in all honesty."

Hermione blinked at McGonagal in shock. Her mouth had gone completely dry and she tried desperately to get her brain to function properly.

"Ideally, I would love to have you teach here after awhile," McGonagal said carefully, trying to hide her amusement at Hermione's utter surprise. "You really have the makings of a wonderful deputy headmistress you know."

That did it. Hermione felt like falling over, despite the fact she was sitting down. To her utter horror, she did just that, slipping off the chair and landing with a thud on the floor.

Moments later, she opened her eyes to find a very concerned McGonagal standing over her.

"Are you alright Ms. Granger?"

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Please tell me I didn't just pass out," she said weakly, her face heating up and humiliation washing over her.

"I don't think I need to tell you dear," McGonagal answered. "Are you hurt?"

"You mean other than my pride of course?"

McGonagal pressed her lips together and allowed Hermione to stand on her own and resume her seat with as much dignity as she could muster.

"So… you want me to teach here?" Hermione asked, needing to clarify everything she had just been told, "After I'm taught by the headmasters of Hogwarts? And you would deem me deputy headmistress, meaning that eventually I would become headmistress?"

McGonagal smiled inwardly and peered over her glasses at the young woman in front of her. Hermione didn't pretend that she wasn't bright. She was humble about it yes, but there was no way she couldn't know how talented she was. McGonagal knew however, that with the distraction of, well, a war with your best friend the enemy's prime target, the young witch had never had the chance to truly develop her magical talents. In her career advisory meeting during fourth year, Hermione had mentioned, among many other careers, that she might like to consider teaching at some point. She had said it casually, almost as an afterthought, but McGonagal had seen the way the bushy haired 15 year old had lit up at the very mention of it. Hermione valued learning in a way few others did and teachers held her utmost respect (and even awe) as a result. Hermione was far too humble to place herself on what, in her mind, was the ultimate level of knowledge and authority. Even now, she was so shocked by the idea that she had fainted on the spot!

Hermione held McGonagal's gaze, her questions hanging in the air between them. Her eagerness was almost tangible as she rattled off the word 'headmistress,' and her euphoria at the idea of being taught by the portraits of the Hogwarts headmasters was radiating from her.

McGonagal leaned forward on her desk and said simply and clearly, "Yes, Ms. Granger."

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**A/N:** I hope this chapter didn't come across as too... 'filler' sounding. It was kinda necessary though. It sets the stage for the next phase of this story. Anyway, thanks for reading, and I'll try to get the next chapter up by next weekend.

**Please Review :-)**


	16. Let Me In

**A/N:** Hello all. I can't guarantee when the next update will be. I'm leaving for Virginia on Thursday and will be there for 2 weeks. I'll try to have another chapter up in 3 weeks at the most. Thanks so much for the feedback... enjoy :-)

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Chapter 15. Let Me In 

_Molly Weasley swallowed hard in a vain effort to remove the lump that had lodged itself in her throat and lungs as she looked at the identical sets of eyes that were both staring directly at her with determination. She had known the instant her twins had set foot inside the kitchen that she was not going to win this battle any longer. She was honestly surprised that she had held out as long as she had, but she knew she wouldn't be able to any longer._

_She was Molly Weasley however, and she was not going to surrender. She wasn't going down without a fight._

"_Mum," Fred said gently, but still firmer than Fred ever sounded. It was unnatural. Molly had wished time and time again that Fred or George would take something seriously, but now that they were, it simply didn't seem right._

"_We're joining the Order," George said, his tone matching the seriousness that had somehow managed to reach even his eyes. _

"_Absolutely not," Molly said dismissively, flicking her wand towards the dishes which began to wash themselves immediately._

_Fred and George glanced at each other, and then looked back towards their mother. _

"_Mum…"_

_Mrs. Weasley tensed as their unison voices rang through the kitchen. She set her face in a mask of annoyance, an expression that would clearly tell them that the matter was settled, and turned around to face her sons._

"_We weren't asking you," George said, carefully holding his mother's gaze._

"_We're joining. You can't stop us."_

"_I most certainly can," Molly informed them, putting a hand on her hip and daring the twins to defy her, knowing full well they were going to—that they had to. _

_Anger flashed across both of the twins' faces, but it was Fred who snapped first._

"_Mum we don't want to fight about this! We're joining! We can't stand just sitting around and hearing about everything that happens through the grapevine!"_

"_Our baby brother is out there right now! He's out there facing more than half the Order is. For Merlin's sake there's 7__th__ years in the Order! Luna and Collin! And we're stuck here twiddling our thumbs? How long did you really expect us to do that mum?"_

_Molly hadn't expected them to twiddle their thumbs nearly as long as they had, but she wasn't about to tell them that. And they hadn't been just twiddling—not technically anyway. The defense products they cranked out were an enormous success. Still, they weren't allowed to know what was going on directly, though Molly knew they did as much spying as they could. And they weren't allowed on missions. She couldn't bare the thought. She had enough trouble with Bill and Charlie in the Order, never mind the state Ron sometimes showed up in on the few occasions she saw him in the past few months._

"_I will not allow more of my babies to put themselves in so much danger! You two will..."_

"_Molly…"_

_A tired voice entered the kitchen and the three red heads turned to face an exhausted looking Arthur Weasley. He made his way to the kitchen table and took a seat before looking up at his wife._

"_Ar-arthur?"_

_Mr. Weasley took a deep breath and shook his head. Molly pressed her lips together and refused to look at Fred and George, who were glancing between their parents with careful looks, slightly unsure of what was going on._

"_The next meeting is tomorrow night boys," Arthur said, "I'm sure Alastor will have no problem with you showing up with us."_

_The silence that fell was so heavy Molly thought she may drown in it. Silence always seemed to be so much heavier whenever the twins were in the room. A room wasn't meant to be silent when they were in it._

"_Ginny," Molly finally said softly, "Oh, Arthur we can't let her join too! Not Ginny!"_

"_She won't listen," George said flatly. _

"_And we'll tell her everything that goes on anyway, so she might as well be in it," Fred said, trying not to make it sound so jarring._

"_I'm certain Luna and Collin keep her well informed already. She was in a right state when she found out they had joined and she couldn't…"_

_Mrs. Weasley sank into a chair next to Arthur who promptly took her hand in his own. They had always known that eventually, all of their children would be involved in this war. When Ron had told them he was leaving with Harry, both Molly and Arthur knew, despite how much they told him differently, that they would not be able to stop him. Fred and George, they had known, would be next—and then of course, Ginny. Ginny was always more vehement about these things. She knew she had to be since she was the only girl _and_ the youngest Weasley child. _

_Child. The word seemed almost ridiculous to Arthur now. Molly would always see her children as her babies, and to some extent so would Arthur. But child? Not a single one of his "babies" was a child anymore._

"_She needs to finish school," Molly said weakly._

"_She will," Arthur replied. "We'll… we'll work something out with her."_

"_Oh, why Arthur? Why do all our babies think they have to go out and fight in this ridiculous war?!" Molly whimpered, tears slowly making their appearance._

_Fred and George shifted uncomfortably for a moment before moving forward to stand directly in front of their parents, causing them to both jump slightly. They had nearly forgotten the twins were still in the room._

"_Because," George said simply, "You two taught us what kinds of things are worth fighting for."_

"_And this," Fred added for him, gesturing to the four of them._

"_Us," George said, gesturing to the entire nine person dining table, along with the infamous Weasley clock._

"_Are worth fighting for."_

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"You fainted!?! Hermione, are you serious?"

Hermione blushed and grudgingly nodded in response to Harry's question.

"Well," she huffed, as her two friends began laughing, "Wouldn't you?!"

Ron and Harry both stopped laughing long enough to look at each other before the word "No!" simultaneously left their mouths as they began to crack up all over again.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Didn't you two hear me? I'm going to be tutored by the portraits! Dumbledore himself! Well I suppose not _himself_ really, but you get the idea. I just can't believe it! I mean, I'm sure it will be years before I'm actually teaching but…"

"I doubt that," Harry interrupted, "You'll be teaching after one term I expect."

Hermione ogled at her friend before turning to look at Ron, as though suggesting he talk some sense into Harry.

"He's right," Ron said with a shrug, "You could teach half the classes at Hogwarts _now_ if you wanted to."

Hermione's expression clearly showed that she found such a flippant regard towards teachers absolutely appalling. She opened her mouth to begin explaining just how important the position of teacher was when she caught the looks on Ron and Harry's faces.

"What is it?" she asked, clearly still annoyed with them.

Ron and Harry looked at each other and an odd expression seemed to pass over their faces. Hermione was rarely left out when it came to knowing what the boys were thinking and so on the rare occasions that Ron and Harry spoke some sort of telepathic twin language, she tended to get a bit agitated—not to mention a little jealous.

"It's just," Ron started, but then shrugged helplessly, looking at Harry for help.

"It's just that you haven't been so… _you_ in such a long time. Years, in fact."

"Yeah," Ron added, "You used to look just like that before you lectured us about the importance of homework, or elf rights," he paused, and then added, "Used to make me want to snog you—if only to get you to shut up."

Hermione stared at her two best friends for a moment and sank down into the armchair behind her, too stunned by the realization of just how much she had changed in the last two years to register Ron's comment about snogging her. The mood in the room had shifted and they all knew it. Ron got up from his seat on the couch and squashed himself next to Hermione on the armchair before snaking his arm around her shoulder.

"Hey now, it's not a bad thing. It was just… well it caught us off guard," Ron told her, trying to sound light.

Harry nodded in agreement. "It's nice to see you so excited about something for once. Seriously Hermione, I'm not stupid. I know how much it killed you not to finish Hogwarts."

Hermione nodded and leaned back into Ron.

"Yeah, sorry, I just... I'm not some stern old woman in a 20 year old's body, am I? I mean, the war didn't turn me into this bitter and cynical person, did it?"

Ron and Harry both laughed outright at this, earning a glare from Hermione as she elbowed Ron none too gently in the ribs.

"Ow! Sorry! It's just… you've _always_ been a rather stern individual 'Mione. I can't see why that, of all things, would be your biggest worry."

"Don't worry Herms, you haven't left us, ok?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste. "_Potty_…" she hissed warningly.

"Ron gets to call you by a nickname," Harry pouted, successfully shifting the mood once more to a happier one.

"Yes, well Ron's is tasteful."

"And I'm her _man_," Ron proclaimed dramatically, "So I have the right to have a nickname for her."

Harry snickered as Hermione rolled her eyes.

"So does that give me the right to call you Won-Won?"

Ron blanched and looked down at Hermione is disbelief as she smiled sweetly at him.

"Anyway," Harry said, still fighting back laughter, "I still want to hear all about your 3 hour long meeting with McGonagal, but it'll have to wait. I told Ginny I'd meet her for a drink."

Ron and Hermione's eyes widened as they looked at Harry, who was now standing and preparing to leave.

"What?" he asked, throwing his robes on over his jeans and t-shirt.

"You're doing what?" Ron asked, trying to read Harry's expression.

"I'm going to meet Ginny," Harry said slowly, suddenly highly unsure of himself, "I mean, it sucks that she had to go in on a Saturday so I said I'd meet her for drinks after… why the hell are you two looking at me like that?"

It had been a long time since the three of them had been able to simply talk. Since Ron had been sick, they had rarely been in the same place at the same time (and all been coherent anyway). The difference it made in how well they could pick up in changes in one another was almost startling. Having spent every waking moment with each other for so long, they had started to take for granted that when they weren't together, thoughts still entered the others' heads. It didn't make any logical sense really, but that didn't mean it didn't happen. Hermione and Ron had been slightly oblivious to whatever was going on with Harry lately, partly because they were no longer around him as much as they were used to, and partly because he hadn't really bothered to divulge any information. The couple suddenly felt a pang of guilt at realizing they had sort of left Harry out lately, however unintentionally.

"Are you… are you and Ginny…" Ron attempted, but was cut off by Harry's fervent head shaking.

"No. We just… I don't know. We're just going to have drinks. And we just had dinner last night. That's it."

Hermione hid her surprise at this revelation but Ron, however, had never learned subtlety.

"You did what?" he sputtered, astounded that Harry and Ginny had gone out and it had somehow escaped his notice.

"Erm, yes? Last night, while you two were out," Harry asked, trying to sound as though there was nothing at all odd about this. Though in his head, he knew that the dinner had been far more significant than asking Ginny to Seamus' pub all those weeks ago.

"Sit," Hermione instructed, and Harry felt he had no choice but to comply as he slowly lowered himself to the couch once more. "Explain."

Harry sighed and sank back into the couch. For days all he had been able to think about was his relationship with Ginny, and how much he wished for the chance to discuss it with his two best friends. Now however, he wasn't sure he even knew how to.

"I don't know what there is to explain," he said at last, knowing that refusing to discuss it wasn't an option—not with these two. They'd get it out of him eventually anyway. "I mean, we're actually friends again. Before, it was like this forced politeness thing… like we didn't really know what we were supposed to say to each other."

"Harry we know all that," Hermione said suddenly.

"Yeah mate, we watched it all take place," Ron added.

"We want to know where you're at with… with how you feel about her."

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I… I really want to be able to answer that but… I mean, I think I know how I feel about her. It's more a matter of being capable of… of living it."

Harry didn't want to open his eyes. He knew he wasn't making any sense and he didn't want to see the looks on his friends' faces. Neither of them knew just how difficult this was for him. Or maybe they did, as they were the two people who knew him best. But having them understand why he felt he couldn't be with Ginny—what with the two of them squashed together in an armchair as they were now—that was another story.

"I just don't know that I could really be with her, or anyone for that matter," he said quietly.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other and then back at Harry.

"Harry mate, it's not that hard," Ron said, not unkindly.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he was instantly off the couch, pacing the room as he always did when he was frustrated. He wasn't frustrated with his friends, just at the whole crazy situation, and Ron and Hermione knew it.

"You guys just don't get it!" Harry ranted, running his hands through his hair as he paced, "I don't know the first thing about love. Not that kind anyway. I don't know how to function properly in a romantic relationship. I've never… I've never really seen it."

"Harry?"

"I never had a mom and dad to watch!" Harry bellowed, turning to face a stunned Ron and Hermione. "I…" his voice dropped as all the anger left it, "I mean… I don't know how these things are supposed to work. My aunt and uncle… I mean… you know how they were. If you met them on the streets you could just as easily say they were cousins, or that my aunt was the nanny or house-sitter. I didn't have… I… do you see what I mean?"

Hermione and Ron just looked at Harry, slightly bewildered.

"Um, I suppose so Harry," Hermione ventured, "but you seemed perfectly capable of being in a relationship when you were 16."

Harry laughed bitterly and flopped down on the sofa.

"I was perfectly capable of a lot of things emotionally when I was 16."

Hermione and Ron instinctively got up to trade furniture, each taking a seat at Harry's sides. The three sat in silence for a moment, all of them knowing that the next move was Harry's. The statement had been a poignant one, and whether Harry had consciously known before just how emotionally tied up the war had made him, her certainly couldn't deny it now.

With Ron, they mostly needed to keep him talking so that he could actually get out what he needed to say. Hermione usually just needed them to let her cry. And Harry needed their silent presence. None of them could pinpoint how and when they had learned any of this, but they knew it all the same.

"It's just," Harry finally spoke, "You guys know how I feel about her…"

"Actually," Ron interrupted, "I don't think we do. I mean, I used to know, a long time ago, but you sort of walled her out. Don't get me wrong, I know why you did it, but…"

"But we haven't exactly bothered to ask how you really feel about her now that everything is all over," Hermione admitted.

Harry swallowed hard and nodded. "I… I care about her, a lot. And because of that, it's hard to put her at so much… risk. I don't want to hurt her any more than I already have. She deserves better. You're her brother Ron, you should know this."

Ron's head snapped up and he stared at Harry. "Harry," he said firmly, obviously surprised that he even had to say this, "You are my best mate, the man who will undoubtedly be the godfather of my own children for Merlin's sake. What my sister _deserves _is to be with the man she wants. And what her _brothers _want for her is a man who will care about her in a way we would only ever trust _you_ to do."

Harry looked up with a confused look on his face, but the gratitude in his eyes was not missed by Ron.

"Who says she wants me?"

Harry instantly regretted this statement as Hermione and Ron promptly swatted him in the back of the head.

"I thought you always said I was the thick one of this lot," Ron said to Hermione, rolling his eyes incredulously at Harry.

Hermione just shook her head as she began to nudge Harry off the couch.

"Get going," she told him, "Just enjoy her company and _relax._"

"Yeah go on Harry. Enjoy your milk while my baby sister enjoys her firewhiskey."

Harry shot Ron a glare as he threw his traveling cloak on over his robes. The weather had been threatening to turn fierce for hours now.

"This doesn't mean I'm ready to… to you know…"

"Go!"

"Alright already! Yeesh. You two just want me out of here so you can snog anyway," Harry teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes and a goofy grin made its way across Ron's face.

"Who says we need to wait for you to be gone?" he asked mischievously, snaking an arm around Hermione's waist.

Harry raised his eyebrows warningly. "Hermione is just as much my sister as you are my brother Ron. So carry on all you like, but just remember that if I _do_ get back together with your sister…"

Harry didn't even have to finish as Ron had instantly sprung away from Hermione and was now on the opposite end of the couch.

Harry smirked in satisfaction and turned on his heel, apparating with a loud crack to the ministry.

"Is he gone?" Ron asked after a moment, smirking mischievously at Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time and stood up from the couch.

"Yes, but I'm hungry. Want some ice cream?"

Ron sighed and fell back into the sofa cushions.

"Not exactly the desert I had in mind."

Hermione smiled innocently at him and made her way towards the kitchen. She had nearly made it when a searing pain shot through her, causing her to gasp for breath.

"'Mione?"

Hermione inhaled sharply and for a moment seemed to be alright before another wave of pain stabbed through her and she bent double, tears stinging the corners of her eyes.

"_Hermione!?!"_

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Ginny stood just outside her cubicle, tapping her foot impatiently. It had been a long day and the last thing she felt like doing was waiting on a man. She nearly laughed at the irony of that thought. In all technicality, she'd been waiting on Harry for much longer than the ten minutes she'd spent pacing her cubicle.

At last, Harry came striding toward her, his expression indicating that traipsing through the ministry was not a fun experience. She firmly reminded herself not to think of the expression as cute, or the odd turn of events over the last few days, or of anything other than a nice young man was going to take her out for a drink.

Oh bugger it all; Ginny had given up trying to stop herself. Harry had been so… normal around her lately that she was daring to hope he'd come to his senses and snog her to pieces. She'd been patient long enough.

"Sorry," Harry huffed, skidding to a halt in front of her, obviously having just practically run through most of the ministry. "Got cornered by Ron and Hermione at the flat, and then… well you can imagine," Harry said, catching his breath.

Ginny smiled despite herself. She almost wished she could actually be mad at him. She cast a quick charm over her desk so that nothing could be removed before throwing her cloak over her shoulders.

"It's alright. I was wondering though, do you really fancy a Saturday night pub scene? I'm knackered and I think I'd much prefer a coffee someplace a bit less… energetic."

Harry relaxed, not even realizing how tense he'd been. He felt like he was loosing his mind these days. One minute he felt fully prepared to take Ginny in his arms and just let her _see_ him, rather than having to have her force her way in. The next, he was terrified of the entire idea, just as he had told Ron and Hermione.

More on instinct than anything else, Harry offered Ginny his arm and apparated the pair of them to a wizarding strip of shops tucked near Trafalgar Square. Harry barely knew the area but Ginny obviously knew exactly where she was headed as she sprinted to get out of the pouring rain and weaved her way towards a tiny coffee shop.

"Goodness! I don't envy your practice tomorrow, if this rain doesn't let up!"

Harry laughed and refrained from reminding Ginny that the team didn't exactly practice in London. He began to try and shake the water out of his hair and dry his glasses before Ginny ingeniously reminded him that he was a wizard. Sheepishly, Harry pulled out his wand and proceeded with a quick drying charm.

"Is that how witches always manage to look so nice after a swim then? I remember being dragged along to a community swimming pool with Dudley one summer and all the girls complained about how messy their hair got."

Ginny arched an eyebrow at Harry in amusement as they weaved their way to a table in the crowded shop.

"What?" Harry asked innocently, earning a laugh from Ginny.

"You're a bit funny sometimes Potter, you know that? Talking about how witches style their hair? No wonder Witch Weekly says half the things it does…"

Harry opened his mouth in surprise as Ginny continued to smirk at him from behind her menu.

"Did you seriously just question my sexuality over a question about hair maintenance?"

Ginny shrugged innocently and continued to smirk.

The pair sat for nearly an hour, talking like the friends they always knew they were amidst the chaos of the last few years. Ginny nearly forgot about her nervousness and Harry nearly forgot about his confusion about her… _almost._

Looking back, it really should have dawned on Harry sooner that things were going too well for him at the moment. He was never in public without being harassed in some form or another. His sprint through the ministry had not just served to get him to Ginny quicker; instead it was more to avoid the stares and shouts and, amazingly enough, one wizard actually jumping over his desk towards him.

"S'cuse me sir."

Harry closed his eyes briefly and steeled himself. Ginny however, just grinned as Harry turned to address the voice behind him. He nearly gasped as he was met with a pair of wide and fascinated eyes belonging to a boy who couldn't have been over the age of 6.

"Yes?" Harry asked, caught completely off guard.

The little boy seemed shocked that Harry had actually answered him and it took him a moment to remember himself.

"Are you… are you really Harry? With the lighting bolt?"

Harry smiled in spite of himself and Ginny had to hide her face behind a napkin to keep from laughing. The kid was adorable, and obviously completely enthralled.

"Yeah," Harry said, wondering where on earth he had adopted such an affectionate and gentle tone from.

The boy seemed even more stunned by this than by Harry's first words to him and began to practically bounce in place.

"You're really the Harry on my shocklet frog card!?"

Harry blinked, momentarily ruffled at being reminded that his face was now in circulation among the card collection.

"Uh, yeah, that's me."

The little boy seemed tickled to pieces by this as his bouncing became more pronounced.

"You're friends with…" he looked around for a moment, as though what he was about to say was of the utmost importance and those around him, for whatever reason, couldn't know such an important secret, "… you know Ron Weezy?!" he asked, the awe clear in his tone.

Harry had to literally bite his lip to keep from erupting with laughter and Ginny's napkin was doing little to hide the shudders wracking through her as she went into a silent giggling fit. Harry kicked her playfully under the table before turning back to the boy.

"Yep, I sure do. We have a flat together. Our friend Hermione lives just down the hall too."

The little boy's eyes grew, if it was at all possible, wider than before as he suddenly seemed to get over his shyness in an instant, as only one so young can do.

"Ron Weezy likes wizard chess! My daddy is teashing me, but I never win. When I do good though, my chess pieces tell me… but Daddy won't let 'em tell me what moves to make. Says I gotta learn myself. Me and my friends, sometimes, we play Harry Potter. My friend Neela, she likes to be Herm… Herm… Hermonee, but me an' Jake think it's really boring. All she does is take a book and goes to read under the big tree! Me an' Jake tho, we play it good. We get our brooms and race and fight the deaf-eaters! I'm always Ron Weezy! Jake is always you, but he doesn't look like you. I have freckles though, see, so I sorta look like Ron Weezy."

The little boy suddenly looked around and dropped his voice once again while Harry leaned in closer to hear him, grinning madly at the little kid's description of Neela being 'boring.' He wondered if telling him that the real Ron Weezy didn't find Hermonee boring in the least would be of any consequence.

"We don't let mummy see us play though," the boy whispered. "She says that even though she doesn't like the deaf-eaters, the Goldien Tree isn't any better. She says that Harry… _you_… use just as many unforgibbles as deaf-eaters do. I dunno why she says that though. I dunno what a unforgibble is."

Harry's heart fell somewhere to his knees as he forced himself to keep smiling at the little boy in front of him. Ginny's eyes had widened and her napkin now served to disguise her seething anger rather than her grin. Her eyes darted around the crowded coffee shop in a vain effort to pick out the boy's mother, wanting nothing more than to exchange a few well chosen words with her.

"I haff to go now sir," the little boy was saying, though Harry barely heard him, "I gotta go back to my mummy. She gets mad when I goes away too long. Bye!"

And just like that, the little boy bounded away, leaving Harry's eyes glued to the spot he was just in.

"Harry?" Ginny said tentatively.

Harry slowly turned around in his chair to face Ginny. He felt numb as he looked at her, patiently waiting to see if he was alright.

And he wasn't. Not in the least.

Harry looked at Ginny and a pang hit him in the chest, hard. Looking at her, he knew she deserved better. She deserved someone who could at the very least tell her the truth. Open up to her. Let her see the truth. He wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. But the idea terrified him.

He knew by now that it was probably due to the way the Dursley's had treated him—that it was the rejection he had faced for the first half of his life that caused him to be terrified of her response to him. But knowing these things didn't make them go away.

Without knowing what else to do, and unable to sit and look into those eyes of hers any longer, Harry stood numbly and prepared to high tail it out of the coffee shop, only barely remembering to throw some coins on the table. Godric Gryffindor was no doubt rolling over in his grave from the cowardice a member of his house was showing.

To make matters worse, as he turned around, the little boy was once again just behind him, holding hands with what Harry could only assume was the mother. The woman caught his eye and her own orbs widened as they flew, almost as if it were a reflex, to Harry's forehead.

Harry grimaced at her, trying to force a smile but instead giving the woman a rather stern look.

Harry, having been a skinny little kid drowning in school robes or hand-me-downs for the better part of his life, and being best friends with a guy who towered over most people at a height of 6'3", often forgot that he was now a 20 year old wizard, a professional athlete, and had recently vanquished a dark lord.

The effect this had on the general public was not always positive. The woman's eyes filled with an intimidated fear as Harry felt his throat tighten. He hated when people looked at him like that. It was far worse than the adoring looks of awe, or hushed whispers he had become accustomed to dealing with. Without a word, Harry made a bee-line for the exit.

Ginny blinked, shocked that he had actually left, before she came to her senses and bolted after him. Not caring about the rain, or the attention she was undoubtedly going to bring to herself, Ginny called out after the mass of messy black hair that was hastily making its way down the street. Why he didn't just apparate right then, Harry couldn't have said.

"Harry! Harry, wait a minute!"

Ginny ignored the few people who had begun to look around with her, curious if this was the famed Harry Potter or not.

"Harry James Potter, get your ass back here!" Ginny bellowed at last, causing more than a couple of people to turn and gape at her.

Harry slowed but didn't turn around. He suddenly felt outrageously stupid. Why couldn't he just get a grip? Was it so much to ask to have a day be normal for once?

Ginny caught up to him and swallowed her anger the moment she saw the look on his face. He met her gaze with that same look he'd had the other night. She still couldn't quite place it, but the longing was still there. She couldn't understand what was stopping him. She was right here. He could have her if he just opened his stupid mouth.

"Harry," she said gently, soft enough not to attract the attention of any more bystanders. "That boy's mother… you can't listen to things like that. You can't let that sort of thing get to you. You did what you had to do and…"

Harry began to shake his head, wishing he could melt into the ground along with the rain. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't know _how_ to talk about this with her. He could talk to Ron and Hermione about it—they'd been there; they'd seen it all with him. He could talk to his shrink about it—Harry paid him; he had to listen. But Harry wanted Ginny to be untouched by the war. He wanted her untainted by it. It was ridiculous really. He knew she had been just as affected as he was. But still, it was so hard to just… let her in.

"Ginny I know. It's… it isn't… it isn't that."

Ginny stopped talking and searched Harry's eyes as the rain continued to soak them both. Harry's hair was plastered over his scar and Ginny could feel the water seeping through her cloak and work robes and into her t-shirt. They just stood there, witches and wizards hustling past them in an effort to get out of the rain quickly.

Ginny suddenly felt the strong urge to cry. She couldn't figure out what he wanted or needed and she was so tired of trying to figure it out without his help. He had made a small effort over the last couple of weeks, yes, but he was a different person than he had been at 16. He had to be. And he had to teach her who that person was if things were ever going to be truly ok between them—romantic or not.

Harry held her gaze, his heart hammering against his rib cage with a vengeance. It was then that Ginny saw it—the thing that had been mingling in his eyes along with the longing.

Fear.

Paralyzing, heart breaking, fear.

"Harry," she whispered, finding her voice full of emotion that she hadn't allowed herself to show the man in front of her since his return into her life. "Let me in."

Harry blinked, trying to brush the rain water off of his eyelashes and hoping that it _was_ just rain water and not tears. His heart rate suddenly began to calm down, just slightly. His trembling hands seemed to still somewhat. He looked at Ginny and saw the same expression he had once seen in Ron's eyes the night he had allowed Harry to bawl his eyes out in Ron's room. She wasn't going to reject him any more than Ron had. He suddenly felt stupid for ever thinking she would. And even stupider for how simple it all of a sudden seemed.

And so, it was then, in the middle of Trafalgar Strip, in the pouring rain, with Saturday shoppers ducking in and out of the shops around them, that Harry started to talk.

"I've never used an unforgivable," he said slowly. "Not effectively anyway."

Ginny didn't move. Every fiber of her being was afraid that if she made any type of movement Harry would bolt again. She just stood there and absorbed the words as her clothes did the rain.

"I tried, a couple of times, but I couldn't use them. After… we found some muggles early on, after we left The Burrow I mean. They had been tortured into… into insanity and… and I vowed I would never and could never do the same thing to another human being, no matter how vile. I… I watched Lestrange murder Wormtail, polyjuiced as Ron, and I knew I would never, ever be able to use the killing curse myself. I saw Hermione," Harry continued, growing slightly more confident with each sentence, suddenly unable to stop as the stories began pouring out of him. "I saw Hermione under the _imperius_ try to kill Ron. We all… we just couldn't use them Ginny. I don't pretend that I'm innocent. I know that my wand… that _I_ am responsible for more than just Voldemort's death, but I've never intentionally used my wand to kill or torture another human. Voldemort perhaps, but even then… is a person with only a 7th of his soul really human? People are terrified of me Gin. Horrified. The way they see me is… is as a murderer. And… and I don't think I am. At least, I try to tell myself I'm not, to keep from losing it completely. I'm responsible for peoples' death, but is that the same as being a murderer? I just… I hate that no one knows, not really anyway, that I'm not truly who and what they think I am. They all seemed really keen to have me do some major killing during the war, but then afterwards they all call me a murderer? I just… they don't understand how complicated it is. They don't know what it's like to know that you've killed someone—what it's like to want to use an unforgivable so strongly that you're afraid of yourself, of what you're capable of doing to another human. I just… I'm not a killer."

Ginny stared, transfixed, while Harry revealed this to her. She took it all in, allowed everything he said to affect her. She wanted to understand. She wanted to remind him that she was here, even if she could never fully grasp the things he'd been through… and was still going through.

"So," she said at last, surprised to find her voice worked properly, "You didn't… I mean when you killed Voldemort, you didn't use the killing curse?"

Harry shook his head. It had been far easier to just let the world assume that was what had happened. In truth, it had been far more complicated than that.

"I… it's hard to explain. Dumbledore always told me that the power the dark lord knew not, or whatever the prophecy said, was love. I never really got how that was going to help me defeat him. He, Voldemort I mean, aimed the killing curse at me, and I moved to disarm him at the same time, just like in the graveyard after the tri-wizard maze, you remember me telling you about that, right?"

Ginny nodded. How could she forget?

"Right, well, at the same time, Ron and Hermione both… they both leapt between me and the curse and put up shields."

Harry closed his eyes for a minute before he swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. His voice had become a bit rawer than he would have liked, but he wanted to plow on, to get as much out as he could in this moment.

"But you can't block Avada Kadavra," Ginny said, confused, and rather surprised at how clearly Harry could recall all of this. She'd been in battle, and most of it became a blur after awhile. Then again, Harry probably relived every moment of that night in his nightmares on a regular basis.

"You can't," Harry agreed, "Putting the shields up was just a reflex I expect. But the sacrificing part… that was… it was…"

"Love," Ginny said softly, comprehension dawning on her.

Harry nodded, unable to suppress the shudder and goosebumps that accompanied the memory every time it replayed in his mind. "It must have been similar to what my mother did for me I assume. They… they knew they were doing it… gits."

Ginny and Harry both smiled softly. She'd probably say the same thing if any of them tried something like that for her.

"Somehow," Harry went on, while he still had the ability to speak; his voice was getting dangerously close to cracking, "I still don't understand all of it, but somehow that same type of magic interfered with the spells me and Voldemort had cast. Our wands connected again, but only for a moment before a huge swell of… I couldn't even tell you what really, power I assume, surged through the connection from me, Ron, and Hermione's end and… and then he was gone, enveloped in flames. Nothing left but ash. Hermione says we must have somehow channeled the love or whatever through our wands, something that wizards have been attempting to harness for decades."

Ginny stared at Harry for what must have been ages. They were now both completely soaked and the rain was only coming down harder. She wasn't exactly sure what to do, but before she had to make that decision Harry wrapped her up in his arms, his chin resting on her drenched hair.

"I'm so sorry Ginny," Harry mumbled into her hair, no longer able to keep his voice from faltering. "I… I want this to work so bad. I'm just not sure I could stand it if you… if you decided you didn't want me."

Ginny pulled away slightly so that she could look up at Harry, the longing and fear still hidden behind his eyes—but this time with a glint of hope.

"Harry, I love you," Ginny said firmly, knowing that in doing so she was going to stun him, and sure enough she could feel him tense up. "Don't say it back," she said quickly, forcing him to hold her gaze, "I know that you're unsure of things. That's ok. And I know that you're not the same Harry I fell for all those years ago. That's ok too. But you have to teach me _how _to love the Harry you are now, ok? You have to make the effort too. It can't just be me."

Harry bit his lip, determined not to cry. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he even wanted to cry. It was the most wonderful thing she could have told him. So instead of trying to think of something intelligent to say to her, he simply pulled her back to him and whispered "Thank you," into her hair.

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**A/N:** Sorry... I can't resist the cliff hangers :-) Though I did at least try and make it up to u with Harry and Ginny's scene. As always, please review. 


	17. What's the Point?

A/N: Hello all. I have a bit of erm... news. I'm working as a summer camp counselor for the next 11 weeks... so I'm sure you can imagine what that will do to the speed of updates. I do apologize, but rest assured that I haven't abandoned the project by any means. I just don't know when ill be able to update (or write for that matter.) I hope you'll forgive me and please, continue to enjoy. I promise I won't abandon it. :-)

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Chapter 16: What's the Point?

"_It's too dangerous! I'm not putting you through this! I'm not putting your _family_ through this! You're going back to Hogwarts, end of story!"_

_Ron's eyes narrowed dangerously at Harry as Hermione sat silently on Harry's bed at Privet Dr. Harry and Ron had been on edge all week. Dumbledore's death, stuck at the Dursley's until Harry's birthday—it was all a bit tense to say the least. Harry had been trying to dissuade Ron and Hermione from accompanying him on his Horcrux mission for two weeks now and it had finally come down to this. A shouting match. If Hermione hadn't had so many of them with Ron herself, she would have attempted to put a stop to it._

"_Stop being such a noble prat Harry. We're with you in this thing, whether you like it or not!"_

_Harry growled slightly and clenched his fists. Why couldn't Ron just shut up and do as he was told for once?_

"_Why are you making this so difficult Ron? I'm not risking you and Hermione!"_

"_We are perfectly capable of making our own choices!"_

"_Well this is my mission. The prophecy was about _me_, so you don't get a say in how I handle it!"_

"_That doesn't even make sense! I live in the wizarding world too you know! It affects me just as much as it does you!"_

"_It makes perfect sense Ron! Wouldn't expect someone as thick as you to get it though."_

"_Oh, well that's mature Harry. Let's just lower ourselves to insulting each other!"_

"_If that's what it takes to get you to listen to reason, then so be it!"_

_Hermione dropped her head into her hands. She almost wished the Dursley's were home since they would most definitely put a stop to all this noise. Truth be told, neither one of the boys was making any sense, but she wasn't about to tell them that. They were blowing off steam more than anything else, so she just allowed them to bellow on._

"_I'll just join the Order anyway, so what difference does it make?"_

"_Your mummy won't let you."_

"_She can't stop me."_

"_HA!"_

"_I mean it! Don't give me that look!"_

"_I'll give you whatever look I damn well please!"_

"_What is it Harry? Do you just want all the fame and glory for yourself? Is that it!? Can't live without it any more despite how much you supposedly hate it?!"_

_The silence that fell was almost tangible. Hermione's head shot up from her hands as she looked, wide eyed, at Ron, who for a fleeting moment looked as though he might apologize. Instead, he simply stood where he was, gazing at Harry evenly._

_Harry stared right back, his jaw clenched firmly together._

"_Be nice for you wouldn't it," Harry growled, "Get a little bit of glory for yourself rather than just following me around trying to pick up some of my fame. Bring a bit of glory into your pathetic and boring life."_

_Hermione audibly gasped. She was quite accustomed to Ron flying off the handle and saying immensely stupid and false things, but Harry?_

_Before Hermione could process another thought, Ron's fist suddenly flew towards Harry and connected with the scowling teen's jaw with a loud thud. _

"RON_!"_

_Harry froze, dazed by what had just happened. Ron stood, seething with anger, his fist still clenched tightly and hanging in the air. Without warning, Harry seemed to snap from his daze and he lunged himself at Ron, full force, bringing them both crashing to the floor in a painful heap._

"HARRY!_"_

_Harry and Ron swung at each other mercilessly, ignoring the stabs of pain they were inflicting and pounded on, kicking and punching like two kids on a playground. In a blind rage, all the stress of what lie ahead and all the frustration of helplessness they felt flew from their fists as they wrestled on the hard wooden floor._

"_Stop it! Stop it, both of you! You're being ridiculous!"_

_Hermione was on her feet now, utterly bewildered. She'd never actually seen her two best friends fight physically. Sure there had been the occasional scuffle with Malfoy, but those were usually cut fairly short or involved wands. She couldn't help but wonder where they had even learned to fight like this in the first place. Then again Ron did have 5 older brothers and Harry had Dudley, but still… _

_She would never, ever, understand boys._

"_Take it back!" Ron roared, drawing his fist back as he prepared to strike yet again._

"_YOU take it back!" Harry bellowed, catching Ron's fist and rolling both of them over so that Ron was effectively pinned beneath him._

"_You already know I didn't mean it!"_

_Ron managed to get his knee pulled up between himself and Harry and used it to kick Harry backwards before lunging at him._

"_And YOU already know I didn't either!"_

_Harry twisted out of the way as he struggled to free himself from Ron's pin. Ron had a good 5 inches on Harry, and it was working out in the red head's favor. Harry couldn't recall every having been so pissed off at their height difference before now._

"_Then why the bloody hell are you two hitting each other?!"_

_Harry and Ron both froze at the sound of Hermione's enraged voice. She'd been shouting at them the entire time, though neither of them had even noticed._

_The two boys stared at each other for a moment, neither one knowing what to say or do. At long last, Ron climbed off of Harry and both boys studied their shoes._

_Ron's left eye had already begun to swell and Harry's jaw was a fantastic shade of yellow, well on its way to purple. Hermione just stared at the two of them, her mouth hanging open slightly._

"_Harry…" Ron said at last, not looking up at his friend, "Did you… did you _bite_ me?"_

_Harry kept his eyes glued to the floor as a faint blush crept across his cheeks and he nodded sheepishly._

"_Merlin. That was rather… werewolf-ish of you."_

_Again, Harry kept his eyes on his shoes as he shrugged. "It worked didn't it?"_

_Hermione blinked and huffed dramatically._

"_What IS it with you two? Isn't there enough going on without the two of you acting like complete idiots?"_

_Ron smirked, and risked a glance at Harry, who couldn't help but return it with a half grin of his own. _

_Another moment of silence passed as Hermione watched her friends, fearing they may suddenly begin hitting each other again._

"_So…" Harry said, at last looking up from the floorboards, with a timid, cheeky grin, "Who do you think would have won?"_

_Hermione's mouth dropped open before she threw herself down on Harry's mattress in defeat. She would NEVER understand boys._

11111111111111111111111111

Ron raked his hands through his shaggy red hair and cursed for what had to be the hundredth time. As if he hadn't spent enough bloody time in St. Mungo's. As if he needed any more drama in his life.

Hermione had been so excited!—talking about the prospect of being tutored by the portraits and becoming a teacher. He hadn't seen her face light up like that since Hogwarts!

And then she was a crumpled heap on the floor, whimpering in pain and telling him it was nothing.

Nothing? _Nothing?! _Who the bloody hell was she kidding!? She'd tried to stand up again to prove it to him but had ended up passing out cold. How could she tell him it was nothing? And where the bloody hell was Harry!?

As though on cue, Harry's voice suddenly filled the hall, shamelessly dropping his own name as he demanded to be let through to the patient ward.

"I'm Harry Potter you great idiot! Yes, that's right, gape at the bloody scar! Now let me down the damn hall! You know damn well that I'm a personal damn friend of Hermione damn Granger, now shove off!"

If Ron hadn't been so frustrated himself, he would have laughed. As it was, he knew exactly how Harry felt. They'd had to deal with the hospital staff enough to know that it was no picnic to try and convince them you had every right to be with the patient.

Harry appeared moments later, jogging down the corridor with Ginny in his wake.

"Ron?"

"I don't know anything. She just… doubled over then passed out. She's going to kill me when she wakes up, but I didn't know what else to do. I knew she'd never be talked in to getting herself looked at. So…"

"It's alright Ron. She'll have to get over it."

Ginny watched the exchange in silence, never having seen this side of Ron and Harry up close until now. The few times she'd been around when one of the trio brought someone to headquarters with injuries during the war, it had been Harry or Ron who was hurt, never just Hermione. Something about Ron and Harry changed here. It was like they became two different people, suddenly too serious to be the Ron and Harry she knew.

Ginny and Harry had been mid-embrace when Pig had appeared out of nowhere in the Strip, containing a note in Ron's hastily scrawled handwriting:

_Hermione. St. Mungo's._

Harry's reaction had been so mechanical and methodical that Ginny had to wonder just how often the trio had been injured. He'd grabbed her arm and apparated them straight into the St. Mungo's lobby, slicking his soaking hair back to make sure his scar was clearly visible as he skipped the line to demand which floor and ward Hermione was in. The receptionist on duty had barely even flinched and seemed to have been expecting him. She didn't hesitate before replying and didn't bother reminding Harry of the floor number.

"C'mere," Harry said suddenly, pulling Ron in for a masculine embrace, and catching Ginny by surprise.

Ron gripped Harry's back and only when he left his forehead pressed into Harry's shoulder longer than was necessary in your standard man-hug did Ginny realize just how frazzled her brother truly was. He'd sounded so collected when he explained what had happened. Now that she really looked at him though, she could see he was slightly panicked. She was almost unnerved that Harry could read her own brother better than she could.

Harry pulled Ron away from himself and gripped his friend tightly by the shoulders, forcing his eyes to his own.

"Ron, calm down. It's not the war. You hear me? She's probably fine. I mean it, you're getting worked up over nothing."

Ron nodded mutely, and visibly began to relax.

Ginny continued to stare in silence at Harry and her brother. She had been wrapped in Harry's arms barely 10 minutes ago but was now once again a spectator in the lives of the Golden Trio. But somehow, she didn't mind so much anymore. She somehow knew her role now, and she took comfort in that small fact.

After 5 minutes of silence, Mrs. Weasley appeared at the end of the hall, looking as she usually did when one of her children, by blood or otherwise, were in some type of danger.

"Ronnie? What happened? Your letter wasn't exactly informative and…"

"We don't know anything Mrs. Weasley," Harry explained for his friend. He had to admit he was slightly surprised Ron had owled Mrs. Weasley at all, but then again they had all felt unusually guilty when they were injured and didn't inform Molly. She had no doubt put the rest of the Weasley clan on stand-by already. They were all well versed in the procedure.

"Well I'm going to see if I can't get in to see her," Molly said at once, heading back toward the desk at the front of the ward.

"Like I haven't already tried that," Ron muttered.

Mrs. Weasley didn't return however, and Ron had begun pacing in irritation.

"They'll let the _mother_ of her boyfriend in but not her actual boyfriend? What the bloody hell is that about?"

"Ron, sit down. You're going to give me a headache," Ginny said gently.

Rather than argue, Ron sank to the floor of the hall and began fidgeting immediately.

"You've got to calm down mate; she's probably fine," Harry told him, taking a seat next to his friend.

Ron just looked at Harry, clearly not convinced.

"Right, because everything is usually simple and easy when it comes to us," he spat sarcastically.

"Ron…"

"Sorry."

The three sat, mostly in silence, for what seemed like ages. In reality it was only an hour though before the Healer appeared in the hall, gesturing for the three friends to follow her into the ward's conference room.

"Hermiome!"

Ron was at her side in an instant, surprised to see her sitting quietly in the conference room looking as though she hadn't collapsed only an hour before. Molly sat just behind her, trying to mask the saddened expression on her face with little success.

"Merlin, are you alright?" Ron asked, not at all liking the lack of color in Hermione's face. He reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear and Hermione visibly flinched, tensing up and moving her head slightly away from Ron's hand.

Confused, Ron allowed his hand to drop to his side. She must be mad at him for bringing her here, he determined, and decided he couldn't blame her.

"Have a seat," the Healer told them, conjuring a few extra chairs.

Ron sat next to Hermione and had to stop himself from taking her hand in his own. She seemed to be ok now, though she hadn't looked at him since he entered the room—or at anyone else for that matter.

"What's going on," Harry asked, once they had all settled into chairs.

Things in the room felt… odd. Harry couldn't quite place it. All the times he and his friends had been injured they'd had a pretty good idea of what was wrong. All they had needed was for the Healer to emerge and tell them that either, yes, they would be fine, or no, they hadn't made it. Once the Healer emerged, there was no waiting around. It was either good news or bad news. They'd never been ushered off to a conference room before.

The Healer glanced at Hermione, who nodded in ascent. It struck both Ron and Harry as odd that she hadn't said anything yet, but their desire to know what was going on outweighed the desire to coax her to speak.

"Miss Granger," the Healer began, "is not in any danger."

Ron sighed in relief as he sank back into his chair, muttering to himself. Hermione was alright. Everything was going to be fine.

"However, we have found that she was, most unfortunately, hit with the newly discovered sterilization curse."

Mrs. Weasley blinked in an effort to keep her tears at bay. When the Healer had told her this not 20 minutes ago, she had very nearly gone on tilt. Hermione's presence was the only thing that kept her from doing so. The young witch had simply sat in silence as the news was given to her and all Molly could do was wrap her arms around her son's girlfriend.

The relief that had been sweeping over Ron suddenly rippled as he screwed up his face to try and figure out why the Healer had sounded so grave as the last words had come out of her mouth. He almost voiced this when comprehension showed up and smacked him so hard in the chest he found it difficult to breathe.

"What?" was all he managed to say as this time he _did_ reach out for Hermione's hand, only barely registering her reluctance to take his own.

Harry and Ginny sat silently in the chairs just behind Ron and Hermione, both too thunderstruck to say anything at all. Ginny was slightly green and Harry looked oddly blank. What could you say to that?

It was obvious that Ron's brain was working furiously to figure out just what the Healer's words meant, but it was as though he was doing everything possible to resist taking it in.

"The curse, as I'm sure you've heard about, is not fully developed which makes it very difficult to know just how extensive or effective the curse is on any one particular person. Dennis Creevy, for example, was hit with a more developed version of the curse and the damage is more than likely irreversible. It seems the curse was more effective on males. We may be able to do something for some of the other victims though. We have a research team working on it. Things look more promising for females, but we can't be sure of anything…"

Ron sat, watching the Healer's lips move. If someone had told him three years ago that he would want to rip his heart out of his chest over the news that his girlfriend may never be able to have children, Ron would have laughed. He couldn't have imagined ever being so emotionally ripped apart at news like this when he was 17. He would have found it sad, yes, but he could never have comprehended just how much effect something like this could have on… everything.

But he was. He didn't even want to think of what was going on in Hermione's head at the moment. He instinctively squeezed her hand, but she didn't return the gesture. He felt like his head was going to explode. He had only briefly read up on underdeveloped curses in his Healer training, but as he had very little desire to work in the severe curse ward, he hadn't given it much thought.

The Healer was still talking, something about routine check ups and monitoring and what not, but Ron had tuned her out. He was staring at Hermione who refused to look at him.

"I'll leave you alone for now," the Healer said gently, noticing that she had lost everyone's attention anyway. "I'll be back to have you sign those papers so you can be discharged Miss. Granger."

The Healer left the room and Harry, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley all followed silently behind her—knowing instinctively that now was not the moment to go to Hermione, who was obviously still in shock over the information… or so they thought. Instead, they allowed the couple a moment's privacy as they filed out.

When the door closed behind them, it was all Ron could do to keep himself from pulling Hermione into his lap.

But she still hadn't even looked at him, and her hand felt detached and cold in his own, and so he remained where he was.

"Hermione?"

Hermione turned her head slightly towards Ron and for a brief moment met his gaze before quickly shifting her eyes elsewhere.

She had known. Despite how much she denied it, she had known this was the cause of her pains. She didn't want to believe if because she knew what it meant. She knew what she would have to do if it were true.

"I'm alright Ron," she said softly, her voice slightly detached.

"Then why won't you look at me?"

Hermione bit her lip and tried once more to meet Ron's eyes, but found that she was unable to.

"Please Hermione, talk to me," Ron begged.

"Ron we can't be together."

The words fell out of her mouth so quickly that Ron nearly choked as he stared at her.

"What?" he managed, barely capable of speech.

"Don't make me say it again," Hermione pleaded, her voice deadpan and her gaze avoiding Ron's face as much as she could.

"Wha... what the bloody hell do you mean? Why would you say…"

"Ron, _please._"

Ron swallowed hard as he moved to take Hermione's cheek in his hand. She pulled away from him and sealed her eyes shut.

"Don't."

Ron froze. Everything in him suddenly felt frigid, freezing everything inside of him in a case of cold, solid, ice.

"I can't… Ron you have to understand. I can't do this to you. We may be happy for a while but… but be reasonable. You don't want to be with a girl forever if she can't give you a family. What's the point?"

Ron just stared at her, utterly stunned at what she was saying. How could she think for a minute that he wouldn't want to be with her over this? How could she even imagine that he'd want to have children with any other witch?

"You… I… You're not… just, no! You can't do this! I won't let you!"

Hermione turned completely away from Ron, unable to look at him.

"You can't stop me," she said quietly.

Ron didn't know what to do. He opened his mouth to protest again, reached out to take her back into his arms where she belonged, but she stood up and moved out of his reach.

"Just go," she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself and refusing to turn around, knowing she couldn't bear to hear him anymore at the moment.

Ron stood up, his entire body trembling as he stumbled towards the door, barely aware of where he was anymore. He nearly ran straight into Harry who was looking at him worriedly with Ginny just behind him, her face matching Harry's concern.

"Ron? What happened?"

Somehow, Harry knew that the look on Ron's face hadn't been caused by the news of Hermione's condition.

"She…" Ron shook his head, as though by doing so would somehow make the last 5 minutes make sense, "She… broke up with me."

Harry and Ginny stared at him in disbelief, gaping at him with wide eyes.

"She… I have to… I need… I've gotta go."

And without further explanation, Ron disappeared with a loud crack.

Harry's eyes darted around in confusion. He peered through the window to the conference room where Hermione was now sitting in a chair, head in her hands, before he looked back at the place Ron had been standing.

"Go," Ginny told him in understanding. "We'll take care of Hermione," she said, gesturing to her mum who had moved down the hall to speak with the Healer some more. "Go on. No telling what he'll do."

Harry nodded, only slightly relieved, brushed his lips against Ginny's forehead before he had even realized what he was doing, and then apparated out of the hospital.

1111111111111111111111

Arthur furrowed his brow as he wandered through the kitchen and into the living room. He would never get used to the burrow being this quiet. With only him and Molly still living there, things seemed to be eerily hushed most of the time. Molly had even taken to leaving the wireless on throughout the day, saying that the lack of noise was really just unnerving at times.

The house would be full again soon enough though. Bill and Fleur's announcement of a baby Weasley had thrilled him to the tips of his toes. Until then though, the wireless would just have to do.

"Molly-Wobbles? Are you here?"

He hadn't been gone for too long. He'd gone for tea with Remus and Shackbolt, and hadn't been expecting Molly to be out upon his return.

"Yoo-hoo? Molly?"

A clicking sound caught his attention and he followed the noise to the window where an owl tapped fervently at the glass.

"What've you got Pig?" Arthur asked the tiny owl absently as he took the letter from its leg.

He was surprised to find that the letter most certainly did not contain Ron's scribbled handwriting, but rather the neat and tidy script of his wife. Feeling slightly relieved to know that his wife hadn't disappeared into thin air, Arthur sank down into an armchair and scanned over the letter.

_Arthur,_

_Dear, something's happened. We've just discovered that Hermione had been hit with that horrid sterilization curse. Arthur I just can't imagine! And oh, our Ron! He's just beside himself. The implications it brings… oh Arthur. What do we say to them? We need to contact Hermione's mother I should think, but best ask her before we do something like that. I'm at St. Mungo's with her now. Don't bother with coming. There's some left over lamb if you're hungry. I'll be back soon._

_Love forever,_

_Molly_

Arthur stared at the letter and felt himself deflate. Being the father of 6 boys was not something he had ever felt prepared for. Being the father of 6 boys during a time of _war_ was another thing entirely. He had never quite been able to figure out what he and Molly had done to deserve children who were as strong as their clan of little red-heads.

How was he going to talk to Ron about this? How would he even be able to start that conversation? His children had endured as much in their young lives as he had in his much longer lifetime. And yet, they still sought him out. He was their father. He had to maintain some semblance of strength in their presence. How was he supposed to do that when his sons were just as mature as he was—had lived just as much as him?

Voldemort was gone. Things were supposed to be safe now. His sons and daughter were supposed to enjoy life. They were supposed to be at peace.

Peace, Arthur decided suddenly, had nothing to do with the political climate.

111111111111111111111111111111

Harry sighed as the feet of Fleur Weasley came into view in front of him. He craned his neck and looked up at her properly—not an easy task with one's head stuck in a fireplace. Harry hated the floo system. Period.

"'Ello 'Arry, We wondered when you'd be 'ere."

"So he's there then?" Harry asked, trying not to inhale any ashes.

Fleur nodded. It did indeed appear that she had been waiting for him to appear in her fireplace, as it wasn't exactly a common area to be milling around near. Bill and Fleur had only had their second fireplace connected with the floo network. Apparently Fleur found the idea of peoples' heads popping in and out of the living room at random simply appalling.

Harry nodded back to the veela and pulled his head out of the green flames. Sighing again, Harry picked himself up off the floor and apparated to Bill and Fleur's home.

Fleur gave Harry a soft smile as she motioned for him to follow her towards the kitchen. Harry couldn't help but think of the irony of Ron showing up here of all places, where Fleur's excitement over having a baby had led to a mountain of "baby things" littered throughout the house. It was all organized neatly of course, Fleur being the way she was about these things; perhaps it was just Harry's heightened sensitivity to the subject at the moment that caused him to notice it.

"'Ow did you know 'e'd be 'ere?"

Harry shrugged. It hadn't been his first guess. He'd tried the twin's flat first. After a rather awkward situation involving a highly embarrassed Angelina and a shirtless Fred, Harry figured that floo-ing first might be a better idea next time rather than apparating straight in.

Harry shook the memory out of his head and noticed Fleur looking at him expectantly.

"Bill keeps the strongest drinks," he muttered darkly, which in truth was why he'd tried Bill just after the twins.

Fleur only nodded and pointed to the kitchen entryway.

"I theenk it best if it is just you boys. 'E seemed quite… well…"

"Yeah, I know. Thanks Fleur."

Harry entered the kitchen, bracing himself. Bill looked up and smiled rather grimly at him.

"Hey Harry."

"Hey."

Harry sat down and looked over at Ron who, sure enough, had a glass of what Harry was only partly sure was firewhiskey. He was suddenly immensely glad that Ron could at least hold alcohol well.

"Ron?"

Ron looked up at Harry, his expression blank, before turning his gaze back down towards the glass in his hand. He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and closed it again, offering Harry a small shrug.

"Well since Harry's here, do you mind if he tells me what on earth is going on?" Bill asked, looking at Ron with concern.

Ron just shrugged again, nodding slightly, and Bill looked towards Harry.

"Hermione…" he paused, unsure of how it was going to feel to actually say it.

He knew he couldn't possibly understand what Hermione was going through, or Ron for that matter. He was in such a different place in his own life at the moment that fertility of all things was really nowhere near his radar. It probably hadn't exactly been on Ron's either, but given the circumstances, what choice did he have but to realize the implications?

"She was… hit with that sterilization curse."

Bill inhaled sharply, anger flashing dangerously across his scarred features. Weasley's were notorious for their tempers, and werewolf bites had done little to improve the situation for Bill. Harry was suddenly glad that it wasn't nearing the full moon.

"Erm," Harry went on, once he was certain Bill had gotten a hold of himself, "she apparently broke up with him too."

At this, Bill's face suddenly fell into a pained look of understanding.

"I see," he said quietly.

"I can't bloody well figure out why!" Ron suddenly shouted, causing both Harry and Bill to jump. "The situation is bad enough without her being so… so…" Ron brandished his firewhiskey as he struggled to come up with what exactly it was Hermione was being.

"You know she hasn't broken it off permanently Ron. She's just…" the words suddenly died in Harry's throat as he realized he really had no idea what Hermione was being either.

And there was no way he'd ever be able to. Thick as he was when it came to females, he knew that there was something quite striking for a woman to be told she was barren. How he knew this, he couldn't have said, but there was nothing he could do to change it.

The three men sat in silence for a moment before Ron suddenly looked up at his brother and best friend, his eyes drowning in fear.

"I've never… I've never been so afraid of losing something before. Ever. I… I don't think… bloody hell! I don't know when exactly I grew up but if this is what it feels like to be mature, I'll pass thanks! There's… there's nothing I can even say to her. What do you say to that? I mean… I can't possibly _understand. _I've always been able to… we've been through so much together but… this is so different. I want to protect her from stuff like this damnit!"

Harry and Bill stayed silent, knowing there was nothing to say. Ron was rarely ever this verbal about how he felt, and the only thing to do was listen, despite how helpless they felt. Perhaps it should have felt uncomfortable, but it just wasn't so. Ron was Bill's little brother and Harry's best friend. If he couldn't be vulnerable in front of them, what other options did he have?

And so they sat. Bill eventually got up and pulled a glass from the cabinet for Harry, pouring him a glass of firewhiskey. They didn't bother with saying anything; they were well aware that there was nothing to be said. They simply sat in silent support.

With a sigh, Bill stood once more and headed towards the stairs leading to the wine cellar.

"Be right back," he muttered, "I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."

* * *

Please Review :-) 


	18. Anywhere But Here

I'm ALIVE!!!! And I made a special trip all the way to the nearest wi-fi location on my measly break JUST to update for you guys. I know it's been ages, but like I mentioned in my previous update, I'm working as a summer camp counselor. I promised I wouldn't abandon the fic tho and I certainly havent, it's just been a looong time since I've updated. It's a really long update though, if that helps at all. Anyway, I cannot thank you guys enough for your reviews. I promise to respond to them once camp is over. I absolutely thrive off of them.

Book 7- Obviously once this weekend hits none of u will be interested in reading this, but I just thought I'd say that at this point I doubt I'll be including book 7 in this story once I finish reading it. It's possible that I may include some things but If I do I promise to warn in advance if it's a spoiler of any kind.

Without further rambling...

17. Anywhere But Here

_George was nearly certain that if he had to sit and watch his twin brother look so completely terrified for another instant he was going to lose it. He and Fred knew each other inside and out. It was part of what made them such an unstoppable team. _

_At the moment however, George was completely lost._

"_How's your arm?"_

_George jumped at the sound of Fred's voice cutting through the thick silence in the tiny waiting room. He was caught so off guard that it took a moment before George realized what Fred was even talking about._

"_Oh… it's fine. They say it should be completely healed by morning… little bit of scarring but considering what could have been…"_

_George trailed off, unable to continue when Fred wasn't even looking at him. Fred was still sitting, unmoving, with his gaze fixed in concentration at some unknown point on the wall opposite himself. The only thing that kept George from commanding him to look up was the memory of his brother's desperate expression as the Order prepared the twins and Angelina a portkey to St. Mungo's. After emerging from the burning building, Angelina wasn't conscious, and George's left arm was badly burned, leaving no time for discussion._

"_George I don't hate you. I could never… I mean… I swear I didn't mean…"_

_George quickly crossed the room and knelt in front of Fred, who still refused to look anywhere but the wall. _

"_I know Fred," George said firmly, gripping his brother by the shoulders and forcing him to actually look away from the wall._

_The pair sat in silence for a moment, both unsure of what to say next. _

"_George… what you did… going in after her like that… I just… I can't begin to explain to you what it… I mean… I love her, George," Fred said at last, focusing fully on his brother for the first time since they'd entered St. Mungo's. _

_The pair stared at each other for what seemed like several long minutes. George had known that eventually he and his closest brother would have to step out onto different paths. It was an inevitability that they had been able to ignore for the most part. They went through pretty much everything together, but they both knew that would only continue for so long._

_The door to the tiny waiting room opened suddenly, brining the twins back to the present and instantly to their feet. Fred looked completely ill while George stood solidly next to him._

"_She's alive," the Healer said gently. "But there… I'm afraid her legs… there was nothing we could do. Her legs are paralyzed. She won't walk again."_

_Fred simply stared at the wizard in front of him, barely hearing him, as all the oxygen left his lungs. George stood firmly by his side, somehow holding him up without actually touching him as the Healer continued to speak._

"_Could you…" George said suddenly, cutting off the Healer, "Could you maybe give us a moment?"_

_The Healer paused and then nodded before graciously leaving the room, leaving the twins standing in silence. George slowly pivoted himself to face his brother, trying to prepare himself for what he was about to see._

_He could no sooner have prepared himself for a heart attack._

_The look on Fred's face was unlike anything George had ever witnessed. Anguish tinged with relief. A sudden coming of age moment twisted into an expression. _

_Out of instinct, George reached out and gripped Fred's shoulders as his brother dug his own nails into George's shirt, balling up the fabric in his fists and shaking with the effort of self control._

_Fred brought his forehead down against George's chest, his entire body shaking with unreleased sobs and anger. George merely stood, unable to do anything else._

"_Why?!" Fred choked, his voice raw and strained. "This damn, shit war! She doesn't deserve this! None of us do! I'm so tired George! Why the hell are we pretending our lives our normal?! WHY!?"_

_Fred continued to grip the front of George's robes, still trembling, until at last he gave up and allowed his body to release its sobs. _

_George gripped back and fiercely grit his teeth. Neither of them could pretend anymore, and they both knew it. It shouldn't have shocked him when tears of his own slid down his face. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd cried._

_With nothing more to be said, George closed his eyes and did the only thing he could think of: he held on to his brother._

1111111111111111111111111111111

In the years that Harry had known Ron Weasley, he had never, ever, seen him hung-over. Yes, he'd seen him slightly drunk, once, but it hadn't been anything too spectacular.

Both Harry and Ron had the same opinion with regards to attempting to drown one's sorrows in alcohol. It was a ruddy stupid idea and never made much sense to either of them. If they'd done that during the war, they'd never have had the ability to fight off death eaters. Harry knew first hand just how much a person dropped their guard when intoxicated thanks to Slughorn. Not that it hadn't seemed like it would be a nice plan from time to time. Seamus for example, seemed to believe wholeheartedly that a strong drink could cure anyone of anything.

In any case, the idea wasn't appealing to Ron and Harry.

However, at this point, Harry simply didn't have the heart to cut his friend off. Bill had tried, more than once, but it seemed the oldest Weasley didn't have the heart to truly stop his brother either. The result had been an outrageously drunk red head, a very complicated apparation trip, and a whole lot of moments in the bathroom that Harry desperately hoped he would be able to erase from his memory.

"Ron, mate, you alright?"

A low moan emitted from beneath the mass of pillows and blankets piled on the couch and a freckled arm appeared briefly before tucking itself back inside the cavern of cushions.

Harry sighed and was suddenly very thankful it was Sunday and neither one of them had any commitments.

"Ron, it's past noon. C'mon, I spent the last two hours brewing you a headache potion so you bloody well better get up to drink it."

A mass of red hair appeared from the bowels of the sofa as Ron blinked blearily at Harry.

"S'too bright," he groaned.

Harry rolled his eyes and dimmed the lights with a flick of his wand. Ron downed the flask of potion with a look of distaste and sat himself up properly on the edge of the sofa, massaging his temples as the pounding in his head abated.

"Sorry, but I don't know any actual hang-over potions."

Ron nodded, eyes still closed, head still bowed.

"'S alright…thanks," he muttered.

The two sat in silence for a few moments while the potion did its job and alleviated Ron's headache. When at long last Ron looked up, his eyes actually focusing on Harry for the first time in hours, Harry just looked at him expectantly. Usually, he and Ron didn't need to wonder what to say. They knew when to be silent and when to be serious and what to say and when. But at the moment, Harry was at a loss.

"Harry mate, you don't have to say anything. There's nothing to say."

Harry looked back at Ron and sighed, nodding in understanding.

"Right," Ron said, sighing deeply and running a hand awkwardly through his hair, "Well, uh, look… don't _ever_ let me do that again. And I mean ever… that was… Merlin, just don't alright?"

Harry cracked a smile at his best friend and shook his head.

"Believe me Ron, I have no intention of it. And by the way, _you're_ cleaning the toilet."

11111111111111

"I'm going to strangle her George! I mean it! She's… it's just so completely, insufferably, ridiculous!"

George watched in warped amusement as his sister continued to ramble on about her roommate. She had barely made herself a proper cup of tea in the twin's kitchen before she had planted herself at the table and launched into an all out tirade about the events of the last week, leaving George to stare at her with his mouth hanging half open.

"Ok, so maybe not _strangle._ That's a bit much. But I just want to…"

Ginny paused and suddenly began to mime grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and violently shaking her. It took all of George's self control not to laugh. Ginny finished her pantomime and then threw herself backwards into the chair back, her long red hair sticking out wildly. She huffed and blew a piece of it out of her face before looking back at George as though only just remembering he was there.

"Err… are you finished?" he asked, trying desperately to contain his smirk.

Ginny sighed and gave him a week shrug before dropping her gaze to the table.

"Would you um… would you like to explain why it is exactly you want to shake Hermione to a painful death? Or should I not ask?"

With a roll of her eyes, Ginny sat forward and propped her elbows on the table.

"She's perfectly fine," she said flatly.

"Huh?"

"You heard me. She's perfectly fine."

"How is that even possible Gin? After news like that, and then her breaking up with Ron…"

At this, Ginny tensed and curled her hands into fists.

"I _know_ George. That's the problem. We all know damn well that she is anything but fine, but it's all she'll say! 'I'm fine Harry. I'm fine Ginny. Honestly, what's the big deal Ginny? I'm perfectly healthy Harry. Ron will come around Ginny. We were friends first you know Ginny. We'll just have to readjust.' She's never been so sodding difficult in her life! She absolutely refuses to acknowledge that there's anything at all to be upset about! She was hit with a curse that has completely rendered her uterus useless, and as a woman George, I'm telling you, that most certainly _is _a big bloody deal!"

George blinked as Ginny took a moment to calm down before continuing. Something within George squirmed at the mention of Ginny being a woman… and at the mention of the word uterus for that matter, but he did his best to ignore it. His baby sister was currently throwing a temper tantrum, and he was not going to acknowledge the fact that she had grown up any time soon.

"That doesn't sound like Hermione. She's always seemed so… open." George said, shoving his thoughts about Ginny's maturity to the back of his mind.

"Hogwarts Hermione maybe," Ginny said with a sigh, "She's been a lot less inclined to talk about what she's thinking or feeling since the war. She's just in coping mode I think. Getting her talk about things is like trying to pull teeth."

"Pardon?"

"Muggle expression. I live with dentists' daughter, sorry."

"What exactly are dentists anyway?" George mused.

"Oh nevermind! Focus George, would you?"

"Sorry."

Ginny gave her brother a severe look before flipping her hair over her shoulder and continuing with her exposition of Hermione's recent behavior.

"So anyway, the worst part is the whole Ron situation. He's absolutely beside himself."

"Has he tried to talk to her? You'd think he would have… a break up as sudden and off the wall as that…"

"Yeah, he has. I don't know what exactly is said, but from what Harry has told me, it's not much. Ron sort of just begs her to change her mind about the whole thing and she refuses. It's killing him. She's very civil towards him, but every time they hold eye contact for more than a second, Ron goes tearing out of the room in a right state. I can't say I blame him. Sometimes Harry follows him, but other times he just lets him go. Apparently Harry's had to repair the closet door a couple of times."

George furrowed his brow and tilted his head.

"What?"

"He punches it, apparently," Ginny said with a shrug.

George nodded in understanding. The Weasley men had never exactly been… articulate when it came to their frustrations.

"She's just being so… so…"

"Thick?" George offered, unable to recall ever having referred to Hermione Granger as thick before.

"Yes!" Ginny exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air and slouching back down in her seat in defeat. "And you know what else George? I'm being completely selfish about it."

"How do you mean?"

Ginny sighed and hung her head.

"Well it's obviously been a bit of a distraction to Harry, hasn't it."

"Um, yes, I would imagine. And…?"

"Annnd," Ginny said, stalling, "I… well it… it's just that… oh alright, I'm jealous! Harry and I have this major break through and then of course all this chaos happens and we've barely been able to have a conversation since! We just have to keep up the awkward flow of "conversation" around Ron and Hermione going. It's… uhg! I just wish I could have a bloody normal relationship with Harry Potter, have a normal roommate, and a less drama-prone brother!"

George blinked at Ginny, who was now biting her lip and looking rather ashamed of herself.

"Sounds like a tall order."

George and Ginny spun around in their seats at the sound of Fred's voice. He appeared moments later in the kitchen with a bag of groceries.

"Er… am I interrupting something?" he asked, the wide smile slipping off of his face.

"Just our dear little sister admitting she's heartless, that's all."

Ginny scowled and kicked George from underneath the table. He winced, but sent her a smirk all the same.

"Ah yes," Fred said, dramatically taking a seat with his siblings, "We've taught her so well, haven't we George?"

"Says the man about to get married," George replied with a snort. "How was shopping?"

Fred groaned and pressed his forehead down on the table. George grinned over at Ginny who just rolled her eyes and her brother's dramatics.

"I just don't see why the color of the _napkins_ matters! People blow their noses in the ruddy napkins! Who the hell cares if they're 'goldenrod' or 'peaches and cream'? I thought mum was bad but you should see Angelina with _her_ mother. It's shocking just how scary a woman confined to a chair can be when combined with the sharp glare of her mother."

"She's not going with gold accents is she? Fleur will never shut up about it if you two do. 'Eet is a bad copy of our weddeen Bill!' I can hear it now," Ginny protested, wrinkling her nose at the thought.

Fred and George stared at Ginny in surprise and George tried to turn his laugh into a cough.

"What?" Ginny asked defensively.

"It's just a bit frightening when you do that…" said Fred.

"You sound exactly like her," George finished.

Ginny scowled and crossed her arms in front of her. She apparently wasn't going to catch a break today no matter what she said or did. She had to admit though, being around the twins was a welcomed break to the flat at the moment. Ginny was sure she would have a fit if Hermione didn't at least admit things weren't 'fine' sometime soon. The healer had told her to come back, whenever she felt ready, to do some tests and begin some sort of treatment that might reverse the effects of the curse. Everything was experimental, but at least it was something. Hermione had yet to say one word about returning to the hospital however.

"To answer your question Ginny, no, we aren't going with gold. I think she went with a blue? Or maybe it was the maroon… I don't know."

"Oh who cares about the damn colors? What you need to be focusing on, dear brother, is your stag night," George announced, a wide smile spreading across his face.

Fred grinned at this and raised an eyebrow at his twin.

"There's no one I would trust more to deliver an absolutely staggering stag night. Please promise me that it includes a drunk Harry?"

George laughed and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"You two are heartless," she scolded, despite knowing it was futile.

"Ah but Ginny, you have never had the deep pleasure of seeing your dear Harry completely and properly drunk," George said solemnly, closing his eyes as though reliving a particularly happy memory.

"Indeed. There is something rather… sobering in seeing the wizarding world's savior entirely out of control of his own pair of feet… and arms… and neck… brilliant it was," Fred agreed.

Ginny just rolled her eyes again and sighed. She desperately needed Hermione to start acting sane again. Too long without any other estrogen influence and Ginny would have to call in for reinforcements.

11111111111111111111111

"No, no Ron. You're notes on vampire bite treatments are fine, but you've strayed from the lecture on werewolves and wolfsbane."

Ron looked up wearily from behind the small mountain of text books that divided him from Padma. The pair had met up to compare notes in St. Mungo's medical library. Ron had recently developed the habit of staying out of the flat as much as possible. He and Hermione may live on separate floors, but it wasn't like that kept their paths from crossing. They didn't want to ignore each other, but any thing else made Ron's head ache. He couldn't get her to have an even halfway decent conversation with him.

"Trust me, that's more accurate than the lecture," Ron told Padma, who gave Ron a skeptical look in reply. "Have _you_ conversed with any werewolves lately?" he challenged.

Padma frowned and gave him a quizzical look. Ron sighed and ran a hand through his fiery hair.

"Sorry," he muttered, "Just trust me, those notes are more accurate. I've seen werewolves transform Padma, both with and without wolfsbane. The text book is… less than revealing about just how intense the experience is. And before you go on about the next page on treating bites, those are more accurate too."

"Dare I ask why?" Padma asked, adding Ron's extra information to her own set of notes. She was well accustomed by now to Ron's surprising knowledge of practical treatment for all kinds of random oddities. She usually got more than she bargained for when asking how he knew such things. On occasion, he refused to tell her. Not that she could blame him. She had simply learned to trust him.

"My brother, Bill, was attacked by Greyback… untransformed. Not pretty. And this was from a transformed werewolf… claws only though," Ron said, pulling his sleeve up to reveal a long scar from his wrist to elbow.

Padma nodded silently and for awhile the only sound came from their quills scratching against the parchment.

Padma hadn't ever known Ron all that well to begin with. He'd been outright arse to her and her sister at the Yule Ball but had somehow managed to redeem himself slightly in the time she'd been around him in Dumbledore's Army. Since the war though, she didn't entertain the notion for a moment that she knew anything at all about Ron Weasley—other than he, surprisingly, made a rather good study partner when it came to Healing.

"Padma," Ron said suddenly, causing the girl to start at the sudden noise as she looked up.

"Yeah?"

"I just… well I mean… You're a girl…"

Padma wrinkled her nose and stared at Ron, who had suddenly started to turn a rather interesting shade of pink.

"Well I should certainly hope you're not only just realizing this," she snapped, more out of confusion than malice.

Ron's blush deepened as he shook his head.

"No, I know. I mean… I knew… er… Oh never mind. I just… can I ask you a rather personal question?"

"Uh, sure?" Padma continued to look at Ron with a completely bewildered expression on her face. They never really strayed from the topic of healing, and so she was rather stupefied by Ron's sudden nervousness and awkward questioning.

"Say you were dating someone, but then found out you couldn't…that you couldn't have kids. Would you… you know… break it off with the bloke?"

Padma blinked, unsure she'd heard the question right. What the bloody hell kind of a question was that anyway?

"Ron… what are you on about?"

Ron shook his head dipped his quill back into his ink well. "Never mind. Forget I said anything.

"Oh don't be stupid; I'm not going to ignore an inquiry like that now am I? What do you mean, if I couldn't have kids?"

Ron sighed and once again abandoned his quill.

"You heard about that bloody sterilization curse the death eaters had been using, yeah?"

Padma nodded, still unsure of where this was going.

"Well… what if you were hit with it? I mean… what's that like… for a girl?"

It was as though something thunked into place in Padma's head as she slowly nodded.

"Hermione was hit with it, wasn't she."

It wasn't a question, and Ron at long last met Padma's gaze. They sat in silence for a moment, and Padma pressed her lips firmly together in thought.

"Ron I… I really don't know what I'd do to be honest," she said slowly, trying to gauge why exactly Ron had asked her, "I mean, I'm a bit young to have really been thinking about kids and all, but I have to say it would… I mean it would be unfair to assume… well I'd feel as though I had to find a wizard who didn't want children now wouldn't I? And let's face it, that's not exactly common… especially among pure-bloods. No offence. But I'd probably feel a bit like… damaged goods I guess. Do you see what I mean?"

Ron blinked and forced himself to keep his mouth closed. It was probably the first time he'd asked Padma anything more complex than 'what's the incantation for removing warts?' He'd more or less expected her to shrug at him and smile sympathetically, not actually answer him honestly. He had to ask somebody though. Hermione wouldn't say a word as to how she felt about the whole thing and it would be a bit awkward to discuss it with his sister. And so…

"Ron? You alright?"

"What? Oh, yeah, sorry. I just… What if… I mean what if you were in a relationship with a bloke when you found out? Er… you wouldn't just, um, what I mean is…"

Padma wrinkled her nose and tilted her head to the side, partly amused, but mostly just lost in trying to make sense of the entire conversation.

"Huh?"

Ron sighed and raked a hand through his hair, mentally cursing his inability to form complete sentences when talking about his personal life.

"Just… maybe we should get back to studying. Forget I said anything, ok?"

Padma hesitated for a moment, tempted to agree with Ron and pretend the whole bizarre conversation had never taken place. Instead, she gave and inward sigh and decided to plow on. She was accustomed to playing counselor anyway, having been one for her rather... less than practical sister on many occasions.

"What happened Ron," she said gently.

Ron closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. So much for just forgetting about it.

"She… broke it off. Right there in the hospital. Now she won't even admit that anything's even wrong. Like I'm just supposed to pretend that the person I care about the most in the whole world isn't hurting. I mean bloody hell! I'd be offended even if we hadn't been a couple. We've been best friends for years! You can't just expect… I mean…Merlin, Padma I can't even look at her without wanting to break something, _anything_, because I know she's hurting!"

Padma did her best to keep her face neutral. Part of her wished she'd never pressed the issue while the other part was astounded at how much passion was in Ron's speech. She continued to stare at Ron until his breathing became more even, and his ears less red.

"I don't know what to say Ron. But I do know that she won't be able to keep this up forever. She'll crack eventually, and the most you can do is be there for her when she does."

Ron dropped his head into his hands and let out a long sigh.

"That's part of the problem Padma. If _I'm _this broken over everything, I don't know how I'll be able to pick up all the pieces for Hermione too."

"You can't," Padma said firmly, causing Ron to look up at her, "Only she can pick up the pieces Ron. But you can be by her side while she does. Hermione knows that. Just from the way you talk about her I can tell what you guys have is… well it's special; it's strong. Hermione just needs to be ready first."

Ron nodded slowly as the blush returned to his ears.

"Erm… thanks Padma. I mean… that really…"

Padma laughed softly and shook her head, stopping Ron mid-mumble. "Where are your notes from Thursday?"

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"I have to say, I'm really proud of you Harry. The pasta was only slightly undercooked and the sauce was only a tiny bit burnt."

Harry rolled his eyes as he continued to put away dishes. Ginny grinned innocently from her seat on the counter as she flicked her wand at the scrubbing utensils hovering over this sink.

"I did have a pretty decent teacher," Harry responded, folding his arms across his chest defiantly.

Ginny's grin broadened as she opened her mouth to reply but winced as Ron's voice bellowed from the other room.

"Well maybe I should just not come over for dinner anymore!"

"Oh don't be ridiculous! It's not that hard Ronald! You're making things way to complicated."

"How can you bloody say that?! How can you possibly pretend that this is easy?!"

Harry and Ginny both closed their eyes as the yelling continued from the other side of the wall. It had been like this for the past two nights now. The former couple would end up bellowing at each other without ever actually solving anything. Hermione still refused to acknowledge that anything was truly out of the ordinary and their friends really couldn't blame Ron for losing his cool. Both Harry and Ginny had done their best to talk to the pair, but it had done little good.

"I almost prefer the awkward silence," Ginny said grimly.

Harry shook his head as he put away the last cup and sighed heavily. He looked up at Ginny suddenly and tilted his head to one side.

"What?" she asked curiously.

Without explanation, Harry pulled Ginny off the counter and began to lead her towards the broom cupboard. Ginny furrowed her brow and was about to protest that she was not going to sweep the kitchen for him when she realized that sweeping was not what Harry was about to suggest.

She watched in confusion as Harry tapped his wand along the back wall of the closet space to reveal the concealed door leading to a separate cupboard used for storing things that could lead to awkward questions if any of the other tenants or the landlord found lying around. Shoving past he and Ron's cauldrons and various potions ingredients, Harry finally emerged with Ron's Nimbus 2001 in hand.

"Harry, what on earth are you doing?" Ginny demanded, thoroughly confused and slightly annoyed at Harry's silence.

Harry simply marched forward and began to unlock the small window above the kitchen sink. He mounted Ron's broom and turned to look at Ginny with an expectant look on his face.

"Are you coming?" he asked simply.

Ginny just stared at him for a moment.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Ron's voice cut through the kitchen again, sounding more desperate than angry, and Harry's eyes clenched shut.

"I don't want to be here right now Gin; do you?"

Ginny met Harry's eyes before traveling back towards the direction of the shouting. She shook her head slowly and stepped towards the hovering Nimbus. Without a word, she mounted behind Harry and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. She was not a fan of double flying, but she was willing to make an exception in this case.

Harry shifted forward and leaned tightly against the broom, squinting at the window in front of them.

"Lean close and hang on," he instructed.

Ginny complied as Harry twisted the pair of them sideways and slipped out of the tiny window before shooting upwards to get out of view of any muggles.

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked when they at last began to level off and an illusion charm had been cast.

"Anywhere but here."

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Hermione sat silently on the couch in the empty apartment. She and Ron's shouting match had disintegrated into silent tension as usual before they realized that Harry and Ginny weren't there to bail them out. She had left the apartment with hardly a glance at Ron, only succeeding in making the tension even thicker.

Clenching her eyes shut, Hermione pulled out the thin gold chain she still wore concealed beneath her blouse and idly ran her fingers along the small quill charm. She couldn't bring herself to stop wearing it.

She had no plan. She had no next move. It was simply not in her nature to be at such a loss, with no book to turn to.

But she would have to get over that. She knew that she couldn't allow herself to actually feel what was going on around her… to truly experience what losing Ron and the family she could never have was like… she didn't think she could handle that. Not after everything the war had put them through. It was simply too much.

Clenching her jaw, Hermione tucked the necklace back into her shirt. That was her plan. That was her next move: Don't feel.

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Please Review :) 


	19. As It Should Be

**A/N: So... it's been what? Forever? Since I've updated... again. I do apologize. Summer is now over though and so with any luck updates will be moving along much faster. Thanks to those of you who are still sticking with this. I'm flattered.**

**This story is now officially AU after Deathly Hallows came out obviously. Just to make things a bit simpler, I won't pull random things from DH but will instead just keep everything in cannon from HBP on back. It was actually quite difficult to get back into the swing of this fic after reading DH but I won't bore you with the details.**

**The Flashback for this chapter is a bit different than my usual flashbacks since it's action driven rather than emotion driven, but it's still important. It also goes out to Dune Scribe, who ingeniously made the suggestion for a werewolf/trio scene a loooong, long time ago. Much thanks to you Dune Scribe.**

**One last thing and then I'll shut up and let you read the actual chapter. 51 of you have been kind enough to add this story to your alerts, and then only 5 of you review? Ouch people. Ouch.**

**Chapter 18. As It Should Be**

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"_Well come on, I was only 6 at the time, and all I really wanted was for the twins to think I was cool!"_

_Hermione and Harry were both in stitches around their small fire as Ron huffed and folded his arms._

"_So you ended up entirely drenched in stinksap?"_

_Ron rolled his eyes as his two best friends finally began to recover from their laughing fit. _

"_Yes. And it's not like I had sussed out that anything the twins said couldn't be trusted by age 6, now had I? They were…"_

_Ron trailed off as the sound of rustling bushes caught the trio's attention. Without another word, the trio stood with their wands ready, aimed at the source of the noise. A small figure stumbled into their small campsite, its back to them. The tell-all shock of bubblegum pink hair was the only thing that caused the teens' to lower their wands._

"_Tonks?"_

_The auror jumped and spun around, shouting a disarming spell as she went and neatly catching (then dropping) the trio's wands. _

"_Bloody hell!" she hissed, before bending down to collect the wands. "What in Merlin's name are you lot doing here!?"_

_The trio just stared at her. Truth be told, it was far stranger that Tonks was alone in the middle of the woods than the three of them being there._

"_Sorry," she said, shaking her head. She seemed thoroughly distracted by something. "Look, you three really need to get out of here," she went on, passing back their wands. "It's not safe."_

"_Not safe?" Hermione asked, "We've got plenty of protection spells…"_

"_Not from this you don't," Tonks interrupted. "Don't put your wand away!"_

_Ron immediately pulled his wand back out and glanced around at his friends, who looked just as baffled as he did. Before any of them could ask Tonks what she was talking about, an enormous wolf, if it could be called that, sauntered into the clearing, looking from Tonks to the trio in what could have been a look of surprise._

"_Pr—professor Lupin?" Hermione said quietly, trying to squelch the fear that was suddenly rising in her chest._

_Ron and Harry both gaped at the human-esque wolf, which was now shoving Tonks' leg with his snout in agitation._

"_Oh shi…"_

"_Right!" Tonks broke in before Ron could finish, "You three have got to get out of here. Only four of them have taken wolfsbane, including Lupin. They're the only ones he's managed to… oh it doesn't matter right now. I'm usually long gone by now but it took me longer than usual to find them and give them the potion."_

"_We can't apparate," Harry said suddenly, "We… it's a long story. We've got a trace on us when we apparate. Some tricky spell Lucious used…"_

"_Doesn't matter! Fly out. Run. Just get away from here before…"_

_A long, piercing, howl filled the air before Tonks could finish. Before any of them had time to think, werewolves began to appear at the edge of the clearing, snarling and stealth. _

_Lupin clamped his jaws around Tonks' cloak and practically dragged the auror to where the trio was now standing, huddled together as Hermione frantically searched through their shrunken things for their brooms._

"_Merlin," Ron breathed, causing Hermione to look up._

_Directly ahead of them, stepping into the clearing, snout sniffing at the air, was Fenrir Greyback. There was no doubting it was him as the other werewolves began to flank their leader. Lupin stood directly between the foursome and the wolves. Nobody moved. It was as though the werewolves hadn't noticed the presence of the four figures frozen in fear at the small clearings center._

_Greyback lowered his disfigured snout and cold, yellow, eyes locked onto the foursome. Nobody dared to even breathe as time seemed to stand still._

_With a mighty howl the spell was broken and the werewolves lunged, claws swiping, jaws gnashing. Chaos erupted._

_Lupin, along with three other wolves, jumped between the attackers and the foursome. Tonks was already firing spells and Harry got a shield up just in time as a werewolf lunged at his throat._

"_Hermione! Get the brooms!" Harry shouted over the howling and spell casting._

_Without waiting for a response, Harry turned his attention to the werewolf that was currently attacking Lupin in an attempt to get to Tonks._

"_I'll cover you," Ron said to Hermione as she hexed one of the werewolves in the face. There had to be at least 10 of them._

_Two of the wolfsbane wolves stood defiantly between the pair of Gryffindor's and the werewolves as Hermione began to once again dig through the small bag of shrunken items. The wolfsbane wolves were taking the brunt of the fighting. She didn't even look up. She had no other choice but to trust Ron and more then once she felt the warm tingle of a protection shield go up around her. If she had looked up, she would have seen Ron, Tonks, and Harry blasting wolf after wolf away from themselves and off of the wolfsbane wolves, desperately avoiding jaws._

"_I've got two of them!" she cried at last, unshrinking a pair of their brooms. "Summon it Harry! Ron here; take… RON!"_

_Hermione screamed as the werewolf lunged at Ron, who threw his arms up on instinct to protect himself. He let out a yelp of pain as the werewolf clawed at him and he crumpled beneath the beast's weight._

"_Relashio!"_

_The werewolf yelped and backed away, angry burn marks rising across its face. Hermione mounted the broom and hovered to Ron, sending more hexes towards the ever present beasts. There was blood everywhere and white hot fear gripped at her. She had no idea if he'd been bitten or not. _

"_Protego!"_

_Hermione looked up to find Tonks and Harry hovering above her, out of the werewolves reach and casting the shield spell. _

"_Ron? Ron can you get up?"_

_Slightly dazed, Ron seemed to return to himself a bit and began coughing as air filled his lungs._

"_My arm," he muttered at last, "I won't be able to hold it."_

_The faint glow that surrounded the pair rippled as several werewolves threw themselves at the fresh blood on the other side of the shield. It wouldn't last much longer._

"_Hermione, hurry!" Tonks yelled, adding her own shield over Harry's for reinforcement. _

"_Hold onto me Ron," Hermione instructed as Ron shakily got to his feet, swaying slightly as blood continued to flow from his left arm._

_Ron mounted the broom and wrapped his good arm around Hermione's waist, holding on with what little strength he had as he continued to lose more and more blood._

_Gritting her teeth and muttering over and over again for Ron's wound not to be a bite, Hermione kicked off and away from the jaws still savagely snarling after them. _

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"Shit Ron! Don't _do_ that!"

Ron merely blinked at Harry as he regained his composure and removed his wand from where he had aimed it at Ron's face.

"I do_ live_ here mate," Ron replied, when at last Harry looked less like he was going to have a heart attack. "I've every right to sit in my own living room. It was your choice to come in through the window. Where'd you drop Ginny off anyway? Her balcony?"

Harry nodded as he flopped down next to his friend.

"Very romantic," Ron commented, earning a frown and a bit of a glare from Harry.

"Shut it. It wasn't… I mean… I… just never mind. Sorry for just sort of taking off like that. It was just a bit…"

"Tense?" Ron offered, saving Harry from having to say it.

Harry sighed and nodded before settling into a contemplative silence beside Ron. His flight with Ginny had been fantastic to say the least. They had ended up outside the city completely—miles from the shouting match they'd left behind. They landed in the first random pasture they came across and spent hours doing little more than goofing off like a pair of idiot school kids. Harry's favorite game had been 'tackle Ginny'… but he was currently doing his best to remove the memory.

"So…"

"Don't even ask me Harry. You know how everything is right now so just save us both the awkward conversation alright? You'll know if anything changes."

Harry closed his mouth and shrugged.

"Fair enough."

"What about you?" Ron asked, "You have that 'try to hide my thoughts so Ron won't notice' look on your face."

"I have _what_ look on my face?"

Ron just rolled his eyes. "You could patent it."

"Bit of a mouthful though, don't you think?"

"Stop changing the subject."

Harry groaned and slumped into the sofa.

"Ron," he said flatly, "I can't tell you what's going on because quite frankly, you don't want to hear it."

Ron raised an eyebrow at his best friend and studied him a moment before settling himself more comfortably into the couch and setting a determined look on his face.

"Try me."

"Ron!" Harry huffed, exasperated, "You do not want to hear about how I feel about your baby sister! And how the sexual tension is just about to kill me! And how sometimes when she's talking I completely lose focus because all I want to do is hold onto her and snog the effing daylights out of her! Yep, that's right Ron, your baby sister! _Sexual_ tension! Happy now?"

Harry, who had sprung up from the couch and begun to pace in the middle of his tirade, now spun around to face Ron. He was ready for the horrified expression he was certain would be on the freckled face—prepared to feel the satisfaction of being right.

But Ron's face was not horrified. The expression that met his was one of anger—a menacing look of frustration. Before Harry could even register it, Ron was on his feet, seething.

"You're right Harry!" Ron shouted, crossing the room towards Harry in barely three strides, "I don't want to hear about how there's tension between you and my sister…" Harry blinked and stumbled backwards and Ron continued to advance on him, caught too off guard to do anything other than back up against the wall, "… but you know what? It has nothing to do with it being _sexual_! For Merlin's sake I _get it_! As much as I don't want to admit it, Ginny's… well she's grown up hasn't she? Harry, listen to me; I will not just nod sympathetically while you bitch and moan about the tension between you and Ginny when you have the power to bloody well _DO_ something about it!"

Harry stared up at Ron, who was now only inches from his face, completely stunned. A strong part of Harry wanted to scream back at him, or better yet to punch him—to explain to Ron how much he didn't understand, but something in the moment shifted and Harry realized that the conversation wasn't just about him anymore.

Ron's eyes clenched shut as he backed away from Harry slightly, his breathing labored from reigned in anger. Harry couldn't help but jump as Ron suddenly struck out with his fist and punched the wall behind Harry's head. Harry remained silent, giving Ron a much needed moment to gather his thoughts.

"Don't you get it Harry?" he said at last, "You can _do_ something about you and Ginny. Hermione… she won't let me. I can't fix it. But you and Ginny… you just have to say the word. There's no reason to… no sense in… just, what the bloody hell are you waiting for? For things to be perfect? News flash Harry, things are never going to be perfect. Yeah, we're scarred, but damnit Harry we're _alive_. Maybe it's time you started acting like it."

Both Harry and Ron stood in silence, Ron breathing heavily in an effort to gather himself and Harry hanging his head awkwardly. Since when was it Ron who carried the voice of reason? Even Hermione, the ever practical one, could benefit from this little lecture at the moment and that fact alone was sobering enough to keep Harry silent as Ron slowly began to relax and take a few steps back from Harry.

"I'm sorry," Ron said at last, "I just…"

"You don't have to apologize Ron. I… I know. I'm the one that should be sorry. I mean… sod it Ron, you've got to tell her!"

Ron's brow furrowed in confusion as he surveyed Harry.

"Huh?"

"I'm serious!" Harry declared, "Hermione… she bloody well needs to get a grip. Ginny can't get through to her. I can't get through to her…"

Ron shook his head in disbelief of where this conversation had gone.

"Are you mental? Why the hell would I be able to talk sense into the girl? I've tried to talk to her already and… well you were at dinner. It's disastrous just trying to get her to pass me the damn salt!"

"Ron," Harry said patiently, "Can you honestly tell me that you've been able to talk to her _without _being blinded by how much she hurt you?"

Everything in the room seemed to go still as the sentence left Harry's mouth. Calling Hermione loopy for her actions lately was one thing. Having spats was a common occurrence among the pair. Admitting just how much Hermione had hurt him in all of this however, was an entirely different kettle of fish. H

"Honestly Ron," Harry said softly, "It's not like Hermione is the only one who's been keeping her mouth shut. You've been just as hurt by all this as he has… and just as silent."

Ron sighed and flopped back into the sofa. If he had just gone to bed after dinner he wouldn't be having this conversation.

"Ron…?"

"Yes Harry, I know. But I'm a bloke aren't I? It's not like discussing my _feelings_ is top on my list of things to do! You're one to talk anyway—being the king of hiding emotions and all. Besides, I should think how I feel about the whole thing was perfectly clear the night I threw up all over your shoes."

"You remember that?" Harry asked, unable to help himself.

Ron rolled his eyes and gave Harry a pointed look.

"Sorry. But that's not really the point is it? You're the one always telling me how unhealthy it is to brood."

Ron snorted and crossed his arms defiantly, "Yes but that was before I knew how satisfying brooding can be."

"Oh come off it…"

"All right, all right! Yeesh. I get it ok? I just… what am I supposed to do here Harry? I… I just can't lose her. I mean… it took us this long to finally… well, you know," Ron huffed, gesturing wildly with his arms, "I know I'm the one that needs to be strong for her right now but…it's just… it…" Ron's voice dropped so low that Harry had to strain to hear him, "…it just _hurts_ so much," he said finally, avoiding Harry's eyes as his best friend sat down next to him. "It hurts to just watch her pretend like it's easy for her… separating everything we had. I can't stand it. I just… I just don't see how she can do it… and it hurts."

Harry let out a long sigh and sank back into the couch.

"You've got to tell _her_ that mate," he said gently, cautiously resting a hand on Ron's shoulder. The red head still hadn't looked up at Harry since going into his speech. "She needs to know Ron. She needs to snap out of it. And you know that she's only trying to protect you."

At long last, Ron looked up and met Harry's gaze. "That doesn't make it any easier mate."

"I never said it did."

Harry and Ron merely sat for a moment, Harry's hand still settled reassuringly on his best friend's shoulder.

"Don't think that I've forgotten about your little outburst about Ginny," Ron said at last, "You can't…"

"Oh believe me, he's not going to be forgetting _anything _about me anytime soon."

Ron and Harry both flew to their feet at the sound of Ginny's voice. Both their wands were trained on her before they even registered who she was.

"Oh put those away," she said indignantly, "and Ron, I don't care what you do with yourself, but I strongly suggest you leave. Mr. Potter and I have some things to… discuss."

Harry and Ron both stared at Ginny, wide eyed, and then at each other.

"What the bloody hell did you do?" Ron hissed, more concerned for Harry at this point than his baby sister. He recognized that look of fire in Ginny's eyes and new that whoever was on the receiving end of it at the moment was not going to be very happy.

Harry just stood with his mouth hanging open, completely flabbergasted. Hadn't he just spent a wonderful evening with Ginny? Hadn't he just gracefully dropped her off at her balcony a mere 45 minutes ago?

Regardless of how he may have left her 45 minutes ago, the Ginny Weasley that stood before him now was unmistakably, pissed off.

"Uh, right," Ron said awkwardly, "I guess I have some things to discuss with erm… with Hermione. I'll… see you two later? Right then…"

With a helpless glance at Harry and a bewildered look at his sister, Ron slipped out the door. Harry just continued to stand with his mouth hanging slightly open as Ginny's eyes blazed in anger. Without a word, the tiny red head began to advance towards Harry, who dimly registered how pathetic it was that he was so intimidated by her, and could do nothing but blink.

"Uh… Ginny…?"

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Ron stared at the door of the girls' apartment for a solid five minute before deciding to go in. He hadn't had any intention whatsoever of going to speak with Hermione right _now_, but he seemed to have little choice in the matter. He certainly didn't want to be around for whatever Ginny had in mind for Harry, and this was his only other option.

Bracing himself, Ron stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

Hermione glanced up suddenly from her book, fully expecting to see Ginny where Ron was now standing. With a small gasp of surprise, Hermione simply stared up at Ron for lack of anything better to do.

For a moment, Ron simply stared back, thinking vaguely that it was a bit late for Hermione to even be up. All things considered, bed time probably wasn't the most enticing idea, given how much time it left one to simply _think_.

"Um… hi," was all Ron managed to say before his mouth went completely dry and he thought it would be better if he simply left things at that.

"Hi," Hermione returned, sounding completely bewildered. "Did you um… did you need something?"

Ron simply looked at Hermione, wishing he had at least given some sort of thought as to how this conversation should go. The truth was there were a lot of things Ron needed at the moment. He needed Hermione to know that the curse didn't change how he felt about her. He needed her to know that he was not going to just let her fight it out alone. He needed her to know how much it hurt, to have her cast him aside so easily.

None of this seemed possible to say at the moment though.

When Ron remained silent and unmoving, Hermione spoke up again.

"Ginny just went over to your flat I think. If it's her you're looking for…"

"It's not her I wanted to see," Ron cut her off, at last seeming to remember how his legs worked and moving forward to the armchair across from the sofa Hermione was currently perched on.

"Oh?" was all Hermione managed to say.

She needed him to leave. This wasn't good. Didn't he have any idea how hard this was? Didn't he know that if he stayed, she'd have to remember how much she was now missing?

Ron sank into the armchair and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

"Hermione, we have to talk," Ron said at last.

"There's nothing to talk about Ron," Hermione replied instantly, her defenses already alarming in her head, "We just…"

"_Yes,_ Hermione, there bloody well _is _something to talk about!" Ron interrupted. "Look, I'm sorry that you don't want to deal with this but enough is enough ok? Talk to me. Hell, talk to anyone! I'm not doing this whole… yell and huff at each other thing alright? We… I mean we were so far past that weren't we? I mean… at least I thought…. Well…weren't we?"

Ron's voice had dropped to nearly a whisper as Hermione just stared at him, rather confused. He wasn't yelling at her. Why wasn't he yelling at her? Yelling was familiar and she wanted the familiarity more than anything right now.

"Ron I…" Hermione's voice lodged somewhere in the back of her throat as she sealed her eyes shut, willing herself not to look at Ron. "I can't do this right now."

Ron dug his fingernails into the armrests in frustration. He had to keep his cool. It was the only way they were ever going to get anywhere in this conversation—no easy task considering his temper.

"Why not?"

The calmness with which he asked the question was enough to catch Hermione off guard. She opened her eyes and all at once was met with a flood of emotion as for the first time since St. Mungo's, she allowed herself to actually look at Ron.

The red head was looking intently at her, dark circles beneath his eyes and the tell-all dullness of exhaustion etched into his expression. If Hermione didn't know any better, she would assume he was ill.

But she did know better. She blinked and bit her lip as tears she had forced aside for weeks welled at the corners of her eyes. Underneath the exhaustion of Ron's expression was the one thing she never wanted to see in his usually playful eyes. Pain. And it was her fault.

"Hermione?" Ron asked tentatively, rather shocked by the site of tears. He nearly got up to sit next to her but thought better of it and forced himself to stay put.

"I don't want to break your heart," Hermione whispered, only barely keeping the tears from falling down her cheeks.

"Then… why? Why are you doing this?"

Hermione just shook her head, firmly biting down on her lip.

"'Mione you can't just pretend this isn't happening!" Ron said desperately, "We've all given you some space… given you time but… Damnit Hermione just talk to me!" Ron shouted, unable to control himself any longer. He leapt up from his armchair and stood, his breathing rather labored with restraint. "Do you have any idea how much this hurts!? Do you?! You act like casting me aside is so bloody easy. Like I was… like what we had was… it hurts Hermione! And then you go and say you don't want to break my heart? Bloody hell Hermione what in Merlin's name is _this _if it isn't breaking me heart?!"

Hermione blinked and grit her teeth in anger, straightening in her seat and looking up at Ron in indignation.

"Easy? You think what I'm doing is easy?!"

"Well you're doing a damn fine job of acting like it!"

"Well it's not!" Hermione shrieked, at her breaking point at last. "There is nothing _easy _about watching you everyday and knowing I can never feel you holding me again! There is nothing _easy _about knowing that I'll never know your kiss again! In fact there is nothing more _difficult_ Ronald, than realizing that one day I'll have to watch you fall in love, and hold on tightly to, and _kiss_ some other witch but that's how it has to be!"

Ron dropped to his knees in front of Hermione, both of them shaking with emotion, and gripped Hermione firmly by the shoulders, relieved that she wasn't avoiding his gaze.

"There will _never_ be another witch," he said slowly. "I told you before… it's you. It's always been you. It will always be you."

Hermione closed her eyes as tears once again pooled at the corners.

"But I'm not what you thought I was," she whispered weakly, "I can't give you…"

"Stop it," Ron hissed, "Do you honestly think for a second that it makes a difference? Merlin Hermione! Yeah I want kids someday but…"

"And when 'someday' gets here I won't be able to! Don't you see Ron? We… I had to end it now so that later… I mean, _that's_ what will break your heart Ron! I know you. And I know how bad you want a family despite the fact you've never said it. Infertility rips couples apart. I couldn't… I just can't do that to you. You… you deserve more."

They sat in silence for a moment, Ron's hands still on Hermione's shoulders, until at last Ron placed a hand on her cheek.

"I think I deserve to make that decision for myself 'Mione. Let me go through this with you. Please, it… it'll destroy me if you don't. I mean look at me. I'm a complete mess without you," he said, giving her a half-hearted smile  
Hermione didn't return the smile, but she did look up and meet Ron's gaze again.

"I… I'm not even sure that _I'm_ ready to go through this yet," she whispered. "Just… give me some time?"

Ron swallowed the lump forming at the back of his throat. It was true. This, after all, was the first time Hermione had even acknowledged the fact that something was even wrong. At the moment, that was more important to Ron than their current relationship status.

"You have to swear to me that you're… well you know… that you're actually acknowledging all of this," Ron told her, his voice serious.

Hermione bit down on her lip and nodded, willing herself not to cry.

"I will Ron. I just… I need some time ok?"

Ron nodded and squeezed her shoulders gently before getting to his feet. He didn't think he could stay in the room a minute longer without wrapping her up in his arms and calling her his own, and Hermione obviously didn't want that. At least not at this moment. He paused at the door and turned to look at Hermione, who hadn't moved a muscle. A tiny bubble of hope made its way into Ron's chest despite the lost expression on Hermione's face.

"I love you Hermione," he told her softly before closing the door behind him.

Once he was alone in the hallway, Ron leaned against the door and exhaled loudly, giving himself a much needed moment to recover before heading back to his own flat.

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"Ginny? Is… I mean is everything ok? I…"

"Shut up Potter."

Harry instantly closed his mouth, startled. He could not for the life of him figure out what he had done to make Ginny so angry.

"Can you tell me," Ginny seethed, now directly in front of Harry, hands on her hips, "why exactly I just went out on the most fantastic date of my life, only to be dumped unceremoniously on my balcony without so much as a courtesy cheek peck?!"

Harry blinked down at the red head, stunned.

"I… you… what?" Harry asked helplessly.

"Harry James Potter," Ginny said with a sigh, "Are you gay?"

Harry's mouth once again fell open and he instantly stood up straighter in shock.

"Sodding, bleeding, hell Ginny!"

Ginny smirked as Harry continued to sputter in indignation at her.

"Well if you aren't gay, then am I some sort of mutant looking girl?"

Harry was well beyond words at this point and simply stood there opening and closing his mouth as though the words would somehow come out of their own accord.

"Harry," Ginny said softly, "I am tired of waiting for you to make your move. You're afraid. I get it. But it's high time you got over it because I sure as hell am."

And before he could do anything to stop it, Ginny was kissing him. Full blown, lips parted, one hand through his unruly hair, the other wrapped firmly around his shoulders, pulling him down towards her, kissing him.

For a moment, Harry's entire brain went fuzzy, and then everything was suddenly sharper and clearer. Ginny's lips, her hands, her hair… everything was in focus as it never had been before.

Harry responded without a second thought, wrapping his arms tightly around Ginny's waist and pulling her as close as he could. He could remember the last time they'd kissed, nearly two and half years ago now, and wondered why he had ever tried to cast it from his memory. Never until that day in the armoire had Harry known such passion, and here it was all over again.

Standing at an odd angle was making him uncomfortable and with much reluctance he broke the kiss, only to have Ginny continue the embrace with scorching kisses down his neck. Harry instinctively lifted Ginny off her feet and began to back up towards the sofa while bringing her lips back to his own.

An eternity could have gone by and the pair would not have known the difference. It wasn't until the logical side of Ginny took over that she pulled away from Harry with great effort, realizing that if they didn't stop now they wouldn't be on the couch for much longer.

Harry let out a small groan of protest before opening his eyes to look up at Ginny, who was smirking at him while attempting a look of satisfied triumph. The effect was somewhat lost with her breathlessness and flushed face.

Ginny gently removed herself from on top of Harry and stood next to the couch while Harry continued to just stare at her, transfixed.

"That," she said coolly, straightening her blouse and hair pointedly, "is how you end a date with someone as dead sexy as I am… if you're lucky enough to be worth it anyway."

She broke into a grin at Harry's shocked expression and sauntered towards the door, nearly running into Ron as he entered. She flashed him a grin and closed the door behind her, hoping that neither boy had seen her shaking from the sheer nerve of what she'd just done.

Ron stared from Harry to the doorway Ginny had just exited through and then back at Harry. Harry could easily have just been in a wrestling match, or duel even, had it not been for one rather awkward detail.

"I suggest you get in the shower before I have a chance to really think about whatever's just happened."

Harry instantly broke out of his daze and went from flushed to crimson. Ron didn't even have time to laugh at him properly before he had disappeared from the room.

11111111111111111111111111111

"Knight to E5."

"You're going to slaughter me… again."

"Course I am," Ron replied simply, "I don't even hold out a hope for you anymore. The goal is to see how many moves it takes to beat you."

"Oh charming," Harry said dryly as Ron's knight unceremoniously launched his rook off the board in a crumbling heap.

It was late. With Healer training and Quidditch practice tomorrow morning, they really ought to have been sleeping. With all the emotional upheaval that night though, neither one felt much like going to bed.

Harry was about to make his next move when a soft knock, followed by the opening of their door had both Ron and Harry on their feet, wands out.

"It's just me," Hermione said quietly.

The boys lowered their wands and watched Hermione for a moment in surprise. She seemed to have a determined look on her face as she made her way into the sitting room.

"How many moves so far?" she asked Ron, who was still watching her carefully.

"Five," he said slowly, resuming his seat across from Harry.

Hermione nodded and settled herself on the sofa next to Ron, opening the book she'd brought with her and disappearing behind it.

Ron looked at Harry and the pair shrugged, deciding that Hermione had simply joined them for the same reason she always had: sleep just wasn't a fun idea. It had never been odd for Hermione to join them late at night. Recent events however, and namely Hermione's attitude, had made any normal behavior from their friend rather unexpected.

Fear of an emotional outburst abated, Ron settled himself back into the couch while Harry resumed their game.

The three Gryffindor's sat by the fire in contented silence. For a moment, everything was as it should be.

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Likes? Dislikes? Let me hear 'em! 


	20. This Is Her

**A/N:** I'm updating! I am not dead; nor have I abandoned this project. I expected to be able to update more regularly, I really truly did... but I was very wrong. Not that it matters, but my schedule is outrageously busy this semester. As such, I really have no idea how often I'll be able to update. I only promise that I will. I can't thank those of you who are still sticking with this enough. I hope you continue to do so.

**Please review**. It's been rather difficult writing this now that I have to write in snatches. I'm afraid the tone and flow might be a bit off but I'm satisfied with it overall.

I have so much more I could say, but I know that really you just want the story. So, my apologies for the lateness of this update and I will do my best to update as promptly as I can. Enjoy.

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**Chapter 19. This Is Her**

_The jarring bang echoed across the kitchen of the burrow, effectively silencing the clan of red heads seated at the long table. The silence hung dense in the air, broken only by the soft sniffling of Mrs. Weasley who began resolutely slamming more potatoes on Ginny's plate._

_Charlie rose from the table, the scraping of his chair causing his family to look up at him. If he'd had the emotional energy, he would have glared at them—particularly Fred, George, and Bill. As it was, he only managed a sad shake of his head._

"_Was that really necessary?"_

_Bill at least had the decency to look ashamed of himself while Fred and George kept their gazes on their dinner plates._

_Without another word, Charlie headed out the back door. He leaned against it on the other side and stood facing the yard, glad to be free from the stifling atmosphere of the kitchen. With another sigh, he pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the subject of the evening's tension._

_Percy was leaning against the fence post at the edge of the Weasley's property, his head hung low and his shoulders slumped. He had only been back in his family's life for about a month, but no amount of good intent and heartfelt apology could erase the outrageously enormous mistakes he had made. _

_He'd come so close to losing everything before reality struck him. He deserved every ounce of animosity he received as far as he was concerned. It was just nearly unbearable to take. _

_Despite his apologies and lame attempts at explanation (he didn't even bother with excuses. They were harsh and unsatisfactory even to his own ears), there was little discussion as to just how badly Percy needed his family. It was as though he forgot how to feel for awhile. He'd blocked out emotion for so long—he had to if he was going to get to the top. He hadn't been prepared for the emotional damage and throbbing loneliness that came with being at the top._

_But he couldn't make them take him back with open arms. And he was well aware that he didn't deserve the welcome._

"_They'll forgive you Percy."_

_Percy jerked his head up in surprise to find Charlie leaning against the fence next to him, looking ahead rather than at his younger brother._

"_I don't deserve to be forgiven. I'm well aware of that."_

_Charlie frowned and turned to face Percy. The younger man still stood as though deflated. Hope, it seemed, was not something Percy had much left of. _

"_Yes you do," Charlie said at last, "You came back Perce."_

"_Oh like that makes up for it," Percy spat, the words bitter and cold with self loathing._

_Charlie stayed silent for a moment, watching Percy for the first time in years. When they were younger, Charlie used to watch Percy all the time. He had always been the little brother before Percy came along. Then it was his turn to be the big brother for a change. _

_Now, it was like he had never even seen this man before. With a rush of remorse, Charlie realized that somewhere along the line, he had failed. He had failed his little brother. Percy had needed him—needed someone to make him feel like a part of this family. They had all failed. It had almost been too late._

"_Percy," Charlie said at last, his voice thicker than he expected, "It's not all your fault. They'll see that. And… and you came back Perce. They'll see that too."_

_Percy remained frozen, his eyes staring, unblinking, ahead of him. With a jolt, Charlie realized that Percy was fighting desperately for control._

_Without hesitating, Charlie placed his hands on his younger brother's shoulders and turned him around so that they faced one another. _

"_We're hurt Percy. But we love you… we let you back. We didn't have to. It's just going to take time."_

_Percy opened his mouth but found he couldn't say anything. Charlie gripped his shoulders a little tighter and looked intently at his brother. Without another word, he pulled Percy into his arms and his little brother did nothing to prevent his tears._

111111111111111111111111111111

"I don't get it Ron."

"Huh? It's simple," Ron said to Padma, looking up from his text book, "If the bleeding is…"

"Not that," Padma said with a roll of her eyes, "You."

Ron looked at Padma and wrinkled his nose. The pair was once again at the St. Mungo's library, once again buried in books. It was all they ever seemed to be doing these days.

"What?" Ron asked, confused and a bit annoyed at her distraction from the topic at hand. They would be sitting their mid-term exams in a week and the first cuts in the program would be made based mostly on their scores.

Padma sighed and tilted her head to study Ron for a moment.

"You were never studious at Hogwarts."

Ron continued to blink in confusion at his study partner. He got along quite well with Padma, but truth be told he hadn't bothered to really pay much attention to her outside the realm of Healing. The last time he had confided in her had been the first, and he didn't have plans to repeat the episode.

"Um… I guess not," he said simply, "What's your point exactly?"

Padma shrugged and picked her quill back up and began copying notes again.

"I don't know really," she replied, not looking up from her parchment, "You're just such a mystery is all. I mean, do you have any idea how bizarre it is for me? To be sitting here studying with _you_?"

Padma at last looked up again in time to see the look of annoyance flicker across Ron's features.

"Just because I'm not the top brain doesn't mean I'm complete rubbish at all this you know. I never really had proper motivation before. Besides, it's a rather nice distraction from the chaos my life is in at the moment thank you very much."

Padma blinked and then scrunched her face in confusion.

"I didn't mean it like that. It has nothing to do with your intelligence; I just meant it's odd that I'm sitting here studying with a man who helped to defeat You Know Who! I mean, if we had known each other better at school then perhaps it wouldn't be so… well, so random. But it's not like we ever had an actual conversation. You don't know the first thing about me and I don't know the first thing about you. Our relationship consisted of DA meetings and an awkward date to the Yule Ball. Do you see what I mean?"

Ron sat back in his chair, half wondering that their relationship was indeed a little odd and half wondering what the big deal was.

"Sorry," Padma said at last, "I just… I can't figure you out. Everything I ever thought about you has been completely off the mark."

Ron just continued to sit quietly, rather stunned. He wasn't accustomed to hearing what those outside his immediate circle of friends thought of him, and he wasn't too certain he wanted to find out. The war had managed to carve a large amount of Ron's insecurities out of him, but they were still there. He had more or less learned to keep them at bay.

"If I may ask," he said at last, "what do… or did I suppose… you think of me?"

Padma paused once again in her note-taking and looked up carefully at Ron.

"Do… do you want me to answer that honestly?"

"Well, yeah," Ron replied, suddenly feeling a bit anxious and even more self-conscious.

Padma pursed her lips and placed her quill down before looking directly at Ron, something Ron had to respect her for. Had it been him who was about to tell someone his blunt opinion of them, he doubted he could do it while looking straight at them.

"I was under the impression that you were a shallow, self-centered, little boy who desperately needed to gain some maturity before he lost everything he had going for him. You always seemed so… insecure—like you had to prove yourself all the time. I was always really unimpressed by it. It just shows a lack of self confidence when you feel the need to prove yourself. You slouched all the time, which was a shame since you really are quite attractive when you stand up straight. You mostly just seemed like an attention seeking, forgive me, prat. I know that's a bit judgmental of me, but I tend to analyze people a bit."

"Yeah, no kidding."

"Sorry. It's not like I stalked you or anything. Sixth year you were always a topic of discussion though because of Lavender having her mammoth crush on you. Being that she's my twin sister's best friend, I was forced to listen to her ramble on and on about you. Like I said, I never really got it."

"Oh," Ron said quietly, his gaze fixed on his text book, unsure of what he was supposed to say.

Padma leaned forward, causing Ron to look up at her as she made sure he focused in.

"Ron," she said firmly, "I'm sorry I thought those things. I was wrong. You may have had some insecurity issues, but you were 16, who didn't? You're… let's just say Lavender had it right, and that Hermione is a very lucky girl. You're not the boy I knew at school. You don't even carry yourself the same way."

"I'm still me," Ron mumbled awkwardly, "Just with a few more scars."

Padma just smiled slightly and nodded. "Perhaps. But I never really knew you to begin with. Hermione saw it; Harry saw it; Lavender even saw it; I just missed it."

Ron stared intently at the parchment spread in front of him as Padma lowered her own head toward her notes. Horrified with himself, Ron began to blink rapidly to clear his vision.

Padma sensed that Ron hadn't moved and glanced up at him. Without a word, she quietly collected her books and stood at Ron's side as he continued to stare down, unmoving, at his parchment. The twin placed a hand gently on Ron's shoulder for a moment before heading for the library's exit.

1111111111111111111111111111111111

George bit his lip as he studied the binder open in front of him. He hated numbers. It was the one side of running this place he didn't like. Fred didn't mind maths but George had always been annoyed with them.

"Alright there George?"

George looked up and gave a half a shrug to the shop's assistant, Verity. She had just finished placing intruder charms on the front door of the shop and came over to lean on the counter next to where George was currently perched.

"Here, let's have a look."

George handed over the binder with little hesitation and shot it a nasty look.

"I don't see why it takes me twice as long as Fred," he groaned, folding his legs underneath him and now sat cross legged on the countertop—something his brother would scold him for if he caught him.

"Some people just have a knack for this kind of thing," Verity replied, quill scribbling across the pages of the binder. "It takes Fred much longer than you to do inventory if it makes you feel any better."

"It doesn't really, but thanks anyway."

Verity smiled and continued to review the work George had already done, occasionally vanishing a few of his scribbles and rewriting her own in their place.

"Verity," George asked suddenly, "How old are you?"

"I'm 21… why?" She asked, looking up at last from the binder.

"It just dawned on me that I didn't know. I knew you couldn't be too much younger than us and you didn't go to Hogwarts…"

"I went to Bouxbatons. I _wish_ I'd gone to Hogwarts actually, but it's a bit late now."

"What'd you go there for? I didn't think you were French…"

"Oh, I'm not. My parents didn't go to wizarding school, so they didn't have a preference to any particular one. They said I could just choose. Being 11, I thought being whisked away to France would be far more exciting. I didn't quite fit there… but by the time I realized that it was a bit late. I had some friends so I just stayed put."

"What do you mean you didn't quite fit?"

Verity smirked and snapped the binder closed, handing it back to George rather smugly.

"I'm just not exactly your little French fairy type. I'm stereotyping obviously, but the girls at Bouxbatons are either all about studying or being fashionable. I, on the other hand, didn't care much about French trends and all of that and while I wasn't a slacker or anything, I had more to do than sit inside and study. All in all they're just a bit snooty."

George laughed and nodded, "Yes, I'm aware. My sister-in-law went there."

"Is she the French veela girl that complained nearly the whole time she was in here?"

"That would be her," George nodded, "She's not all bad, but I certainly know what you mean, stereotype or not."

Verity laughed, her blonde hair falling down her back as she tilted her head backwards. George raised his eyebrows before catching himself and bringing his attention back to the present.

"If you don't mind my asking," George said, suddenly feeling that it was very necessary to keep talking, "Why… why do you work here? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm fully aware of what a privilege it is to work with genius' like Fred and myself, but it seems a bit odd for someone just out of school to choose to work in a shop."

Verity's smile faltered for a moment. She looked at George for a moment, as though sizing him up, and then let out a small sigh.

"Brilliant though you and Fred may be, it's not my first choice. A few months before I sat my NEWTS my mum got ill… she didn't make it."

George instantly felt the color drain from his face. He knew very little about Verity but her spunk and energy never left her in all the time she had worked in the shop. Not that he had paid much attention, but he never would have guessed. He opened his mouth to speak but Verity quickly shook her head, cutting him off.

"Don't say you're sorry. It's alright. _I'm_ alright. Life happens. Some people don't get to even have parents and I had mine for 19 years. I still live at home, helping my dad take care of my brothers. They're muggles so they aren't away at school. My dad works nights so he can be with them in the evenings. I needed a job that would be a little more flexible. Starting a big time career just hasn't been an option at this point."

George did his best to hide his absolute shock but failed miserably. Verity laughed again and rolled her eyes.

"Honestly George, I don't think I've ever seen that expression on your face. It's really ok."

"I… I mean yeah ok. That would just be… hard, I guess."

Verity shrugged and nodded. "Yes, but it can't be changed—only how I handle it. My youngest brother took it the hardest, but he was only 15 at the time."

"Yeah… you said he's a squib?"

"Nope, I said he's a muggle."

George raised an eyebrow and once again was cut off before he could form a sentence.

"Pay attention, because I only want to explain it through once," Verity said in a mock stern voice, obviously having had to make this speech before. "My mum had me when she was quite young and unmarried. My dad is actually my stepfather; he had two sons from a previous marriage and is completely muggle. My biological dad on the other hand, is a wizard. My mum knew about it but never bothered to tell my step-dad. I got my letter and… well she had a bit of explaining to do to say the least."

George blinked, completely astonished and at last managed to find his voice.

"Merlin, sounds a bit… complicated, doesn't it?"

Verity just smiled and summoned her handbag from beneath the register.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning George. And let me know as soon as you can if I'll be switching to the new shop with you or staying at this one with Fred."

An unexpected pang went through George as he realized that in a matter of weeks he would no longer be working at this shop on a day to day basis… the shop he and Fred has started. His mouth had gone completely dry, and he nearly forgot Verity was still standing in front of the counter, waiting for a reply.

"Uh, yeah, I'll let you know as soon as _I_ know."

Verity nodded and turned to leave when the question fell from George's mouth as though compelled.

"Do you play quiditch?"

Verity looked back over her shoulder, her eyes questioning.

"Huh?"

"Quiditch," George said, shocked by how completely… not George he sounded at the moment. "Do you play? A few of us get together on Sundays for a pickup match. Not all of us play, but if you wanted to come and get slaughtered by yours truly then, you're welcome to join us."

Verity considered him for a moment before shaking her head.

"You're being very weird tonight George. But I love quiditch, so I'd love to join you Sunday. Where at?"

George grinned, once again feeling like himself.

"How bout you meet me here and I'll apparate you side-along eh?"

111111111111111111111111111111

Right in front of her was where she had first realized she was in love with Ron. Granted, at the time, she wasn't _actually_ in love, but as far as 12 year olds were concerned, it was love.

The thought that she might, maybe, perhaps, have feelings for Ron Weasley first entered her head when the troll had nearly taken her head off in the girls' toilet. It wasn't love then, but the thought did occur to her that perhaps there was more to this silly little boy who was a complete academic and social disaster.

The thought had become a bit more pronounced at the end of the term when he sacrificed himself in that stupid, terrible chess game. She hadn't even realized just how much she valued loyalty until then. She had no idea that at 11 she would feel so fiercely scared or protective over another person. Yet for all her emotions, Ron was the one who had actually acted on them. Not to mention that chess was a very tricky game—a game for those with high intellect.

Hermione hadn't even been able to see Ron's strategy. He was better than her at chess.

It wasn't until second year though, that she decided she was probably in love with him. Sure, she hated him plenty at times too, but overall, she loved him as much as she knew how at that age.

She owed it all to Malfoy really.

He had just… done it. He didn't even seem to think it was necessary to take a moment and consider whether or not Malfoy deserved to be hexed, or if he could even take on Malfoy with a broken wand. He'd just gone in and fought for her. He'd puked slugs for hours after, but that really wasn't the point.

Hermione hugged her knees tighter to her chest and continued to stare out towards the quiditch pitch. She could probably pinpoint the exact spot he had puked.

Her lessons had finished nearly an hour ago. Ron and Harry might be worried about her at this point. Then again, they had both been respectful of her request for some time to process what was going on. It was slowly killing Ron, and she knew it, but she had to sort some of this out herself. She still didn't want to feel anything.

She had tried to tell herself it wasn't such a big deal, but it didn't work. Every time she really thought about the consequences of the curse, she had to force her thoughts elsewhere.

And Ron. Sometimes it was like the boy from 1st year had disappeared altogether. Yet he was still very much there all at the same time.

With a sigh, Hermione forced herself off the ground and took a final look at the spot on the quiditch pitch—the entire scene replayed before her as though it had just happened. She remembered Ron's eyes blazing as the foul word left Malfoy's lips.

She remembered all the various ways she had seen those blue eyes blaze in the past decade.

Shaking herself, Hermione regained composure and spun on her heel, apparating away.

11111111111111111111111111111111111

For a week solid, Harry had managed to carefully avoid Ginny. It wasn't necessarily on purpose, but it suited Harry just fine. He was extremely busy with quiditch practice and as the season came to a close, Ginny's office was just as busy making preparations for the World Cup which was being hosted in France this year.

Overall, the last week had been maddening. It was as though the four friends had suddenly become so immersed in their work that any conversation beyond "how was your day" was hard to come by.

Not that any of them minded, all things considered. There seemed to be an unspoken acknowledgment that they all needed some time to process.

Unfortunately for Harry, he wasn't a huge fan of processing. The lack of time spent with his friends meant that he'd had a great deal of time available to simply mull over everything that had happened to him in the last few months—most poignantly in regard to Ginny.

For the first time in a while, Harry knew what he wanted. Perhaps he'd always known. But that didn't change the harsh reality that the entire thing was going to be somewhat painful. Letting people into the deeper side of his life had never been easy. He'd never done it so voluntarily before either. With Hermione and Ron, it just sort of happened. Maybe that was why Ginny was so different—so special. He had to choose to let her in where Ron and Hermione simply always had been.

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had been doing a lot of overanalyzing lately and it was getting him nowhere. He wasn't exactly sure why he was choosing to go about things the way he was currently planning, but somehow, he felt Ginny would understand the significance. If she didn't then, truth be told, their relationship would never work out.

He sighed and stood up, trying not to think too much about referring to himself and Ginny having a _relationship_ even if it was only in his own head.

He thought he was ready for it, but Harry still nearly jumped a mile when the door swung open to reveal Ginny, decked in her ministry robes, giving him a confused look.

"Hey Harry. What—I mean not that it matters, but what are you doing here?"

Harry swallowed and simply looked at her for a moment. He suddenly wasn't at all certain he could do this.

"Harry?"

Ginny set her bag down and closed the door behind her, eyeing Harry quizzically. She too, had been casually avoiding Harry since she had, for lack of a better term, jumped him the weekend prior. Things were in his hands now as far as she was concerned. She had done all she could think of.

"Ginny, I… could we maybe… will you come somewhere with me?"

"You mean right now?"

Harry nodded, a look of determination on his face. Ginny could make head nor tail of what was causing him to be so uptight. He looked terrified underneath his controlled features and Ginny almost felt as though she needed to calm him down despite the fact that he was making every effort to appear collected.

"Um, yeah of course. Where are we going?"

Harry met Ginny's eyes and swallowed thickly.

"I… I don't know if I can quite say it out loud. I mean…" Harry faltered. He really shouldn't just spring something like this on her. He certainly wouldn't appreciate having no warning in the situation. "Gin, I want to let you in… and I know this might seem really ridiculous and a bit dramatic and all…but I just… I…"

"Harry it's alright," Ginny interrupted, "Let's just go," she said gently.

Again Harry simply nodded as he offered Ginny his arm in order to apparate. She obliged him and in a swirl of cloaks and a sharp crack, they were gone.

When Ginny opened her eyes, she found herself surrounded by trees. She had nearly forgotten that it was the beginning of summer. With a tinge of sadness she realized she rarely spent much time outdoors anymore. She was going to have to rectify that situation. They'd been saying they were going to join some of the old DA gang for quiditch matches for months now. It was high time they actually went through with it.

"Where are we?"

Harry didn't answer, but gently pulled her wrist instead, leading her out of the small cluster of trees and into the outskirts of a small village. It was unmistakably a wizarding village, but she didn't have time to question it as Harry was already heading down what seemed to be a familiar path to him. He seemed unable to speak much.

In hindsight, Ginny realized that she should have realized where they were going long before they arrived. Harry seemed to be concentrating awfully hard on not looking at her and Ginny was with it enough to sense he needed some sort of support. She silently laced her fingers with his and he instantly gripped her hand tightly.

She was just about to ask how far he intended on leading her when the words died in her throat and their destination was upon them, catching her off guard. She had been so busy concentrating on Harry that she hadn't even noticed that they'd entered a graveyard. Standing before them, were the tombstones of Lily and James Potter, rising up in front of her before she could properly prepare herself for it.

And all at once she understood, though she would never know why she knew exactly. But she understood that Harry had needed to bring her here.

The pair stood in silence while Ginny blinked back tears. She wasn't even entirely sure why the tears were coming. But she didn't fight them.

Harry stood solidly next to her, his hand still gripping hers tightly.

"I…" Harry spoke at last, deciding he could trust his voice for long enough, "I used to think it so odd that people would talk to gravestones as though the dead could hear them…"

Ginny inched subtly closer as Harry paused and closed his eyes to collect himself.

"…but I… it seems to help. Even though you know they can't hear you actually. Does… does that make any sense?"

Ginny nodded, still not looking up to meet Harry's eyes, knowing he wasn't yet ready for that.

"It seems so stupid sometimes Gin, to be so emotional about the fact that they're dead. I mean, it isn't like I _knew_ them. But… but all those years… the loneliness… the coldness of the Dursleys… watching the way they were with their real son… I mean, I can't explain it."

"You don't have to," Ginny whispered, wishing more than anything that she could pull him to her and ease his hurt somehow. But she knew now was not the time. And she knew it would never truly be the time. It was a pain that could not be eased, only endured, and she intended to endure it with him.

The silence fell again before Harry once again broke it, but this time, he didn't direct his voice to Ginny.

"This is her," he whispered, so softly that Ginny thought for a moment she had imagined it, "She's the one I mentioned before. You'd like her. I know it. She… Merlin if you only knew. I'll bet you could have told me what on earth to do here… with girls and… and that sort of thing. You could have told me what it's supposed to feel like… how I should treat her… convince me I wasn't losing my mind…"

Harry's eyes clenched shut as his grip on Ginny's hand became vice-like.

"…I wish you could meet her."

And Harry let go—not caring that his voice was cracking with the last sentence or that Ginny could see the drops of tears collecting in his eyelashes. He sank to his knees and allowed himself, for the first time since the war had ended, to fully grieve _with _someone. He had grieved yes, but always privately. Even when Ron and Hermione had been in this exact spot with him, he hadn't truly allowed them to share in things quite like this.

Ginny knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as her own tears fell freely down her face and Harry's arms came up to wrap around hers.

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**Please **let me know what your thoughts are. Like I said at the beginning, there is much I would like to say about this chapter, but I'll let you mull it over yourself before I gab on about it. Thanks for reading!


	21. A Single Reason Why It Shouldn't

AN: Thank you as always to those who review. I know this story is slow going... but it really can't be helped. Thanks for reading.

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20. A Single Reason Why It Shouldn't

_Ron stood quietly in front of the tombstone, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. He didn't even acknowledge the crunching footsteps behind him until Hermione was right next to him._

"_Ron? Why… well aren't you going to say something?"_

_Hermione turned and opened her mouth to call out to Harry but Ron's hand on her shoulder stopped her. She looked up questioningly and Ron gave her a weak shrug._

"_I just though that… you know, that maybe he should find them himself."_

_Hermione said nothing, only nodded slowly as she pivoted around to stand next to Ron as the two silently waited for Harry to make his way through the graveyard and to the tombstone of his parents._

_Without a word, Ron suddenly lurched forward, an angry spark in his eyes as he began to scan the area with his eyes._

"_Ron?"_

_Ron said nothing as he stooped down and scooped a pile of leaves into his arms. Hermione stood watching, confused, as Ron proceeded to carry his armload to a smaller stone placed next to the Potter's. She was about to demand what it was he was doing when her eyes landed on the name etched in the smaller stone. She couldn't help but sneer slightly at the words Peter Petigrew. _

_Ron wordlessly arranged the leaves so that they covered the name and then resumed his position next to Hermione._

"_No point in him seeing that," he muttered, and Hermione nodded in agreement._

_Not long after, the crunching of leaves reached them followed shortly by Harry._

"_Have you found any… thing."_

_Harry stood rooted to the spot, seeing past his two friends and staring intently at the pair of tombstones. Despite having been preparing himself for this for longer than he could remember, there was no way he could anticipate just what exactly he would feel. _

_It was as though all the wind had been knocked out of him as he just starred ahead barely noticing that Ron and Hermione had moved rather quickly to stand on either side of him. He didn't realize it, but he had swayed on the spot and both Ron and Hermione were afraid he'd collapse. Ron stood with his arm stretched behind Harry's back in case he should need to catch. _

_Harry tentatively took a step forward and Hermione gave Ron an alarmed look from behind his back. Harry had gone completely white._

"_I'm alright guys," he said at last, realizing how he must look to his two friends right now._

_Hermione and Ron remained silent, not really knowing how to respond. Instead, Ron placed a hand on his best friends shoulder as Hermione wove her fingers with Harry's. _

_They remained like that for several minutes before Harry spoke again._

"_Do you… do you think I could maybe… have a moment?"_

_Hermione and Ron exchanged glances and then nodded._

"_Course you can mate. We'll head back to the camp alright?"_

"_Take as long as you need Harry."_

_Harry nodded in thanks as Hermione and Ron quietly turned around and began their trek back to the camp site. As soon as they were out of earshot, both let out breaths they hadn't realized they'd been holding, looking up at each other as though they each expected the other to have so sort of answer or words of wisdom—anything really that would make the situation feel less helpless._

"_Ron I… I've never seen him like that," Hermione said at last._

_Ron shook his head and spread his arms out in frustration. _

"_Me neither. I mean… I don't know what you're supposed to do in these situations!"_

"_Well neither do I!" Hermione replied sharply._

"_I wasn't saying you were supposed to!"_

"_Oh for goodness sakes Ronald…"_

"_Hermione," Ron cut her off, "We can't keep doing this. We've only been out here a month and we can't seem to just… not argue! So please, we have to… I don't know really, but we can't keep bickering all the time. Harry has enough to worry about without mediating the pair of us."_

_Hermione stared at Ron, stunned. She could hardly believe what had just come out of his mouth. _

_More than likely, it was the stress of the last month, or the fear that constantly loomed behind her Gryffindor exterior, or just the events of the past 6 months as a whole, but for whatever reason, Hermione couldn't hold back her tears._

_Ron blanched and looked positively alarmed as the tears dripped down Hermione's face._

"_Blimey Hermione! I didn't mean... all I meant was…" _

_He trailed off as Hermione shook her head._

"_It's not that. I'm sorry. I… I just don't know! This whole thing is just so… big!"_

_Ron stood silently, lost and still a bit surprised. Not knowing what else to do, he tentatively reached out and pulled Hermione towards himself, suddenly reminded of Dumbledore's funeral. _

_Hermione tensed at first, surprised at the boldness of the move, but then relaxed and leaned into him, desperately trying to get a grip of her emotions. She nearly laughed as Ron awkwardly patted her back, obviously unsure of himself._

"_What, now you're laughing?"_

_Hermione just shrugged as she pulled away and giggled slightly while wiping a teat off of her face. Ron just stared at her in disbelief as she smoothed her shirt and composed herself._

"_Come on," she told him at last, "let's get back to the site and worry about Harry."_

_Ron rolled his eyes and laughed slightly himself. _

"_Hermione, you say that like it's a new idea."_

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"I still don't see why we've got to have them sized 100 different times. She's a witch! It takes all of 3 seconds to tailor a set of robes!"

"This is only the second, and last, fitting Ron. Get over it. You'll put them on, make sure they're perfect, and then take them home. It won't kill you."

Ron sighed and sped up to keep pace next to Percy. For the elder Weasley, this trip was a bit more significant. No one had been more shocked then Percy when Fred had asked him to stand as a groomsman at the wedding.

The assimilation of Percy back into the family had been something Ron had missed out on for the most part. Not that he minded. He was honestly too relieved to have something _good_ happen to really want to be a direct part of the emotional debacle that Percy's reunion with the rest of the Weasley's had been. The two brothers had held one conversation on the matter, and that was it. Months prior, Ron would have been seething, but anyone could see Percy's genuine remorse. He had even apologized to Harry for the letter he had sent Ron in their fifth year.

Regardless, strolling down Diagon Alley en route to pick up dress robes for Fred's wedding with Percy of all people was something Ron never would have expected 3 years ago.

"Er, Ron… is… is everything alright?"

Ron started out of his daze and looked over at his brother who was wearing a look of controlled concern. Percy always tended to look a bit strained when asking about anything personal going on within the family. It was as though he still felt too ashamed to have any right into their lives.

Letting out a long sigh Ron simply looked over at Percy and shrugged.

"Things are… ok. Relatively speaking I suppose."

In truth, Ron had never felt more drained. His conversation with Padma had struck him unexpectedly. He still wasn't sure why her words had brought him to tears, and he wasn't too keen on figuring it out. For the moment, his main focus was the healer program, and making sure Hermione didn't separate herself from the rest of the world too much. His whole world was on pause, loathe though he was to admit it.

Percy merely nodded in response, starring ahead without looking at his younger brother.

Ron sighed again and stopped walking, causing Percy to look back towards him in confusion.

"Ron?"

"You can say what you're thinking Perce. I'm not going to fly at you for being concerned. You've done more than enough to prove yourself… which you shouldn't have had to do in the first place. We only let you because… well because we knew you would never feel justified otherwise."

Percy blinked in surprise, caught entirely off guard.

"I… I mean Ron I just…"

"Spit it out."

Percy steeled himself as he looked at his brother. He was barely a trace of the Ron he had abandoned all those years ago. In his absence from the family, Ron had become nearly foreign to him—much more so than the rest of the family had. In all fairness, when Ron had at last returned after the defeat of Voldemort he had been a bit of a stranger to the entire family. He was hardly recognizable and it had very little to do with his physical appearance.

"You've grown up so much."

The words left Percy's mouth before he could stop them and for a moment he thought he should continue walking and not wait for a response. The look on Ron's face told him otherwise.

"Everyone keeps telling me that Percy," Ron said evenly, the frustration evident in his voice, "And you know something? I just don't get it. I don't _feel_ the slightest bit more mature most of the time! I don't _feel_ like I'm somehow older and wiser than I used to be. I mean ok yeah, I get it, I've changed. But I'm not convinced that this is exactly how 'growing up' feels. I was off fighting a bloody war! Not your typical growing up experience now is it?!"

There was no anger in his voice, which was the only reason Percy had the courage to step toward his brother with little trepidation. Carefully, he looked into Ron's face, something he vaguely realized he'd never had to look _up_ to do before.

"I've realized Ron, that growing up rarely ever happens to us the way we expect it to."

Ron blinked in surprise and then nodded slowly.

"Let's get our damn frilly robes," he said at last.

Percy smirked and fell into step next to his brother. By the time they arrived at Madame Malkin's, Ron's mood seemed to have lifted significantly.

"Alright Fred, let's get this over with," Ron announced as they entered the shop.

The older Weasley twisted his gaze around—not an easy task as he was standing atop a small podium with Madam Malkin herself waving her wand in all sorts of patterns along his outstretched arms.

"It's not like I'm having picnic either Ronniekins now quit whining."

Ron rolled his eyes and stepped up on the podium, flinging his arms dramatically spread eagle.

Fred just shook his head and Percy rolled his eyes as well before stepping onto a third block.

"Where's George?" Percy asked.

"Sorting out some things over at the Hogsmeade shop," Fred replied casually… a bit too casually for Fred.

Percy and Ron exchanged glances and both seemed to decide to let it go. Fred and George seemed to never be together when plans for the wedding were taking place. Things seemed to be a lot less… tense that way.

The three Weasley's went silent as two of the shop's attendants came over to finish the final tailoring of Ron and Percy's robes. The silence didn't last long, as the two witches instantly began to ask about the wedding plans and details that not even Fred knew about. It wasn't until they finally left the shop that Fred and Ron burst into nearly uncontrollable laughter.

"What in Merlin's name is so funny?" Percy demanded, baffled.

Ron and Fred looked at each other in surprise before erupting all over again.

"Oh honestly," Percy huffed, waiting for one of them to pull it together.

"You mean you really didn't notice?" Ron asked, amazed.

"Notice what?"

Ron and Fred both rounded on their brother, astonished.

"Blimey Percy! When's the last time you were around a female?" Fred demanded.

Percy looked from one brother to the other, completely lost.

"What do you mean?" he asked weakly.

"Percy, that witch taking all your measurements, she was shamelessly flirting with you," Ron informed him with all of his usual tact.

"Though it was probably the most boring flirting I've ever witnessed," Fred added, "it was still flirting."

"I… I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about!" Percy stammered.

"Oh?" Fred asked in mock surprise, "Well it doesn't matter if you were clueless. I told her where she could send an owl if she wanted to reach you."

Percy went completely white and then abruptly scarlet, earning a snicker from Ron and a wide smirk from Fred.

"You… you what!?"

Fred just continued to smirk and gave his brother an innocent shrug as Ron threw his head back and laughed harder than he had in days.

1111111111111111111111111111111

"He took you where?"

Ginny nodded and took a deep sip of her tea. She had been bursting to tell someone about where Harry had taken her for and at long last an opportunity had presented itself. Hermione had actually initiated conversation, not something that happened much as of late, and the words had just come tumbling out.

"Wow," Hermione said, genuinely surprised, "Was he… I mean, is he alright?"

Ginny nodded again and set her tea down.

"I think so yeah. It wasn't easy, but he's alright."

"So… are you two…?" Hermione gestured into the air and Ginny snickered.

"I'm honestly not sure Hermione. We haven't had much of a chance to discuss it, and it wasn't exactly the time for such a conversation at the time."

"Fair point," Hermione agreed, "I just… I'm sort of surprised I didn't know he was going to take you there."

Ginny frowned and quirked an eyebrow at her roommate before picking her mug of tea back up, stalling.

"Erm, may I ask why?"

Hermione looked slightly taken back and shrugged.

"Well, we tell each other everything really. I mean, the important stuff anyway."

"Hermione," Ginny said gently, "Are you really all that surprised? You haven't exactly been, well, _approachable_ lately."

Hermione stiffened instantly and steadied her gaze over Ginny's shoulder.

"Well yes Gin, I suppose that's a good point."  
"Hermione…"

"Don't Ginny. I know ok? I know."

Ginny and Hermione sat in silence for a moment before Ginny's resolve broke and she leaned forward to look directly in Hermione's face.

"If you know, then why aren't you doing anything about it?"

Hermione just shook her head and looked away, earning a deep sigh from Ginny.

"We aren't going to keep letting you do this, you know that too right?"

Hermione grit her teeth and stood up. Two strong willed and stubborn women living in the same apartment did have its drawbacks.

"Yes Ginny," Hermione said coldly, "I know that too."

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"So you're going to make things official then?"

"Yes, and Ron, if you don't stop studying those damn healer books right this instant I'm going to loose my mind. It's 12 o'clock at night for goodness' sakes."

Ron rolled his eyes but shoved his book away from himself all the same.

"So what made you decide this all of a sudden?" Ron asked Harry, who had pulled the chess set out and begun to set up the pieces more out of habit than real desire to play. He paused at Ron's question and hesitated before placing his queen at her post next to his king.

"I… I'm not sure I can explain it really. I just…"

"Know it's what you want," Ron finished for him, setting his own pieces on the board without looking up at Harry.

"Yeah," Harry said softly. "It's more than that though."

"Yeah. I know."

Harry nodded and directed a pawn forward.

"I uh, took her to Godric's Hollow."

Ron's attention snapped up to Harry, who was staring resolutely at the chess board.

"You did?"

"Yeah, two nights ago."

"Oh," Ron said lamely, not entirely sure what else there was to say.

"She's worth the risk Ron. Do you know what I mean? I think underneath it all I've just always had this fear that she'd changer her mind and leave me. But… it's worth the risk."

"And to think that all this time we just thought you were noble and thought she deserved better," Ron said with a smirk.

"Oh shut up," Harry laughed, "I just…"

"Harry!?"

Ron and Harry both jumped and spun around in their seats in alarm.

"Oh good you're up!"

"Lupin?"

Ron and Harry both stood and came over to the fireplace where Lupin's head now floated in a mass of green flames. The werewolf was grinning widely and didn't seem to notice how unusual it was to floo his surrogate nephew at such a late hour.

"Mind if I come over for a moment?"

Before Harry or Ron could reply, Lupin's head vanished from the fireplace only to return moments later with his body now attached.

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked, completely bewildered.

"Is… is everything alright?" Lupin repeated, a huge smile across his face. "Yes Harry, everything is wonderful actually. Sorry for the unannounced visit, but I need you two, or would like you anyway, to come with me. We could even go get Hermione and Ginny if you'd like. I'm sure Tonks wouldn't mind."

"Lupin," Ron cut him off, "what the bloody hell are you on about?"

"Tonk's and I are getting married," Lupin replied, the ridiculous grin returning to his face once again.

"Er…"

"That's fantastic Remus," Harry said, still a bit lost, "but what on earth do you need us for right now?"

"To be witnesses of course!" Lupin exclaimed, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry continued to look confused as his usually very calm and level headed uncle beamed at him.

"What, you mean you're getting married right now?! Merlin's pants Remus can't it at least wait till morning?" Ron asked, incredulous.

For the first time since arriving, Lupin's expression became calmer and slightly more serious. He looked steadily at Ron, though the smile hadn't managed to completely leave his face.

"No Ron," he said softly, "It can't. I'm not sure I even know why. I only know that I can't think of a single reason why it _shouldn't_ be now."

Harry and Ron looked at each other and then back at Lupin, who seemed considerably more himself now. He looked confident, excited, and slightly nervous all at once.

"Don't you want… I dunno, a proper ceremony or something? With a cake and all of that?" Harry tried one last time.

Remus just smiled and shook his head.

"I'm old Harry; it's not like I care. And Tonks is as unconventional as they come. We want to do this now, and we, _I_, would like very much for you two to be a part of it."

The three men stood in silence for a moment before Ron and Harry both nodded.

"Right then. Just give us a second to grab our cloaks and get the girls. We'll apparate straight to number 12?" Harry asked.

"Perfect," Lupin replied. "See you soon."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Ron and Harry to stare at each other in wonder.

"Bloody hell."

"You can say that again," Harry laughed, "Come on, we better hurry up."

Ron and Harry grabbed their cloaks and headed for the girls' flat.

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Overall, it was certainly one of the more bizarre nights Harry had experienced. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so strange if it had been Sirius marrying some younger witch in the dead of night without prior warning, rather than Remus. Harry liked to think it was actually a bit of a tribute to Sirius and James in some ways.

Regardless of why, Remus and Tonks were completely thrilled with the decision and seemed convinced it was the perfect moment. Kingsley had officiated in the parlor of number 12, followed by a toast from Harry and various congratulatory remarks. Then, in a swirl of laughter, the couple apparated away, leaving the bewildered bystanders to shrug at one another and smile despite their shock.

There had been little discussion after they had all arrived back at the boys' flat. The pensive mood seemed to cloud any conversation they might have attempted. Hermione had slipped out almost immediately, and Harry never even noticed Ron quietly follow after her, leaving Ginny standing in the tiny living room alone.

Harry turned around, expecting to see Ron, but instead lost his voice as his eyes fell on Ginny. She simply stood there, a look of contentment on her face, lost in her own thoughts. It took her a moment before she even realized Harry was starring at her.

"Harry…?"

Harry blinked and swallowed hard, Remus' words roaring in his ears.

'_I only know that I can't think of a single reason why it _shouldn't_ be now.'_

Harry's eyes never left Ginny and he gave her no reply. Ginny blinked, surprised and uncertain under the intensity of his gaze. She opened her mouth to speak again, mortified and stunned to find that she was actually beginning to flush under his stare, but before any words could come out of her mouth, Harry was standing in front of her. He ran shaky fingers through her hair and dipped his head down so that their foreheads rested together.

"Ginny," he whispered, this time not at all surprised by the wavering in his voice, "I love you."

11111111111111111111111111

Ron paused on the stairwell for what must have been the 6th time—a considerable number considering he was only one flight away from his destination to begin with. He rarely ever took the stairs, but he couldn't bring himself to arrive quickly.

For the 6th time, Ron began to turn around, only to change his mind again halfway through and set his feet forward again. He stared up at the door that would lead him to Hermione's floor and scowled. With a frustrated growl, he ran his hands through his unruly hair and sat down on the stairs.

He felt truly pathetic.

Not so long ago, he had been on the couch with Hermione asleep in his arms. He had been struck by the thought that Hermione didn't really need his protection. Not that he wanted her to be weak, but he had felt a bit like his role as her boyfriend was a little skewed at the time.

He let out a bitter laugh and then rolled his eyes. It wasn't enough that he was sitting alone in a stairwell; now he was laughing out loud at himself.

He simply didn't get it. Everyone saw this drastic change in him, and yet he couldn't find the emotional strength to step through a door? It didn't make any sense to him. At the moment, he felt as stupid and awkward as he did as a 4th year.

With a sigh of determination, Ron stood up and made his way to the door. He found himself in front of Hermione's room a little quicker than he would have liked but decided it didn't matter. Regardless of how much he hated Hermione seeing him hurt, she couldn't keep isolating herself. He knocked gently before letting himself in, half expecting Hermione to be asleep anyway, and all of his indecision becoming a moot point.

"Hi Ron."

"Hey," Ron replied, a small smile making its way across his face despite himself, "May I?"

"Yeah, of course. Come in."

Ron closed the door behind him and began to head toward the couch Hermione was perched on. She abruptly jumped up and away from Ron, a look of forced enthusiasm on her face.

"I was just thinking I was hungry. Would you like something? I was thinking grilled cheese; how does grilled cheese sound?"

"Er…" Ron raised his eyebrows and slowly nodded. Everything in Hermione's body language was tense. She looked as though she was gritting her teeth and her fists were clenched firmly at her sides.

Despite this, she continued to smile widely at Ron and headed into the kitchen. Ron followed her with his eyes, confused. He flinched as the sound of cabinet doors slamming reached him and he tried to determine whether or not he should stay put.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" Hermione's voice replied, followed by another sharp bang that Ron assumed was a dish of some sort.

"Um, is everything alright?"

"Of course it is," Hermione called back, her voice clipped, "Why wouldn't it be?"

Ron opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a loud crash and sharp cry from Hermione. Uncertainty gone, Ron strode quickly into the kitchen to find Hermione on the floor with several saucepans and cooking sheets in front of her. Why Ginny and Hermione kept their heavier pans in the higher cabinets was beyond him.

"Are you ok?"

Hermione nodded, her body tense as she gripped a pan so tightly her hand shook.

"Here, let's get this picked…"

"I can do it Ron," Hermione said shortly, standing up and forcefully shoving the pan into its cabinet.

"I know that; but there's no reason I can't help… Hermione?"

Hermione turned to face Ron who had stood up next to her. She didn't seem to have heard him. Her jaw was clenched and she was staring fixedly at a spot on the counter.

"I can do it Ron. Just… go wait somewhere and I'll get you your grilled cheese. Ok? Just… I can't…"

The pair of them jumped as the second pan Hermione had been holding slipped from her hands and crashed with the others below. Hermione swore under her breath and crouched back down to pick it up again, her movements still jerky and tense.

Ron stood wide eyed and bewildered as she retrieved the pan, only this time, she didn't get back up. Ron slowly sank down next to her, shifting so that he was facing her directly. Hermione's head was bowed and her hand still clutched the pan's handle tightly.

Cautiously, Ron softly placed a hand over her trembling grip.

"Hermione," he said gently, "just let it go."

Hermione's eyes clenched shut as she grit her teeth tighter. With a frustrated sob, she flung the pan down. Neither of them acknowledged the loud clang that followed as Ron slowly eased himself closer.

"It's ok," he whispered, even though he really didn't know if it was or not, "'Mione, please…"

And that was all it took. Hermione turned and all but threw herself into Ron's chest as she at last allowed herself to feel.

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Feedback! Please!

Anon. Reviewer Responses:

Staggered Incite- I'm so glad you're enjoying the story and thank you so very much for your feedback. Thank you for the compliment on Ron. It infuriates me when people write him as flat. He's second to Harry as far as complication and depth goes as far as I'm concerned. There's just so much to work with. As for Padma I suppose you could make the argument that she's interested in him... but she knows as well as Ron does that it's Hermione. Always will be. ;-)


	22. Blondie

I'll bet you all thought I had abandoned this... but I didn't. I know that the updates have been outrageously slow, but it really just can't be helped. Last semester was the busiest I've ever had and this semester doesn't look like it'll be much different. I can't thank those of you who are still sticking with it enough. I truly appreciate it... and if it's any consolation, this chapter is HUGE!... yeah... I didn't really think it made up for it either, but I had to try right?

I have not decided whether or not I'm going to make this Epilogue compliant. Since I started it before DH came out, it's only complaint though HBP as of now, and since I haven't killed off the same characters as Rowling, it'd have to be tweaked if I did decide to keep it with the epilogue. Either way, it doesn't have a huge impact on the story as of right now. Also, I know that Ron's patronous in this fic is not canon. I didn't know it was a terrier (or whatever dog it is... funnily enough, I considered having it be a dog). I went with the horse in armour because I felt like his should have the same presence as Harry's. Anyway... that's not really relavent to anything, I just wanted to put it out there that I'm aware it's not cannon.

So, all that said, I again thank you for sticking with this, and for your reviews. Without those, I probably really would have abandoned this fic. I will do my very best to respond to them as best I can, but I can't promise.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 21- Blondie

_Draco stared down at the Daily Prophet for the hundredth time, still afraid that the story on the front cover had vanished and was all a dream. There had been a mass breakout from Azkaban. They happened just about every other month but this one had been quite large—large enough to make the front page; large enough for Draco to hear of it. _

_Draco's eyes scanned the list of those who had escaped, his heart pounding in his ears every time he reached the boldface type of PANSY PARKINSON and NARCISSA MALFOY. He hadn't even known his mother had been imprisoned._

_Ever since Pansy's abrupt exit from the hunting cabin, Draco had been trying desperately to track her down. Without any leads, and being completely unable to speak to people for fear of his own imprisonment or worse, it had proved nearly impossible. By the time he had caught up with her, she had already been captured by Potter and turned over to the ministry. _

_He had been relieved. Azkaban was no picnic, but it was better than the alternatives. Draco knew all too well what happened when someone returned to Voldemort empty handed. Not to mention that the Death Eaters were suspicious of anyone who could have ties to himself. Several of them knew that he and Pansy were far more than family acquaintances. As if he didn't already have enough reasons to hate Snape for catching the pair of them in the Owlry 6__th__ year. _

_With a jolt, Draco realized that he had been stationary for far too long. Despite the lengths he had gone to in order to disguise himself, he was still easily recognizable and was practically in the center of a Death Eater base—not that any of the villagers had any idea what went on in the old abandoned barn at the end of the field. _

_Draco quickly began to gather his things, stowing the newspaper clipping in his jacket pocket. He leaned down to retrieve his bag and felt his blood run cold as he was met with a pair of all too familiar shoes—the best money could buy._

"_Hello son."_

_Draco froze, and for a brief and wild moment considered acting as though he had no idea who was addressing him, but he knew his disguise wasn't that good. Trying his best not to panic, Draco slowly rose up, his hand dipping into his pocket to clutch firmly to his wand, and stared back at his father. _

_Lucius stared back at his son as a cruel smile made its way across his face. _

"_As though a new hair color could hide generations of flawless bone structure," he said coolly, his lip curling at the sight of Draco's dark brown hair. "Come with me. I have something that may interest you and we cannot speak freely here."_

_With little choice, Draco silently followed his father through the small village, his mind buzzing with desperate escape options. By the time they reached their destination, he had yet to come up with anything. He was trapped and his father knew it._

"_After you," Lucius said calmly, opening the door of a small house towards the edge of the village._

_Draco grudgingly stepped forward, his hand still firmly clenched around his wand. As much as he wanted to believe that his father loved him more than he loved the Dark Lord, it had become harder and harder to think so anymore. Draco's mother had been the primary reason Lucius hadn't brought his son forward to serve Voldemort any younger than he did and she was probably the primary reason Draco wasn't currently surrounded by death eaters out for his blood. _

"_Draco!"_

_Draco let out a gasp of shock as his mother suddenly dove upon him, gripping his shoulders firmly and examining ever square inch of him._

"_Mum?"_

_Lucius moved further into the room, lighting the fireplace despite how warm it was. It was then that Draco saw her, bound and magically gagged, in a chair by the mantle. _

"_Pansy! What… untie her!"_

_Draco lunged from his mother's grasp and headed towards Pansy, who stared at him hard, her expression fierce. _

_Lucius stepped out in front of his son, blocking him from reaching Pansy. _

"_I don't think so Draco."_

_Draco blinked up at his father in confusion. What was he playing at? Pansy hadn't defected from Voldemort like he had. It was shocking enough that he wasn't the one bound and gagged, but to have Pansy held hostage?_

"_What's going on?" Draco asked at last, surprised at how strong his voice sounded. He certainly didn't feel it._

"_Draco, honey…"_

_But Lucius put a hand out to silence Narcissa who shrank back and away from the two men still standing, rod straight, in the center of the room._

"_You're going to deliver her to the Dark Lord, as a sign of your devotion. You will explain how you were blinded by her, and that your devotion to him never truly wavered. He will take her as your ultimate proof."_

_Draco stared at his father, dumbfounded. He felt like an anvil had been thrown on top of his chest. _

"_What?"_

_Lucius looked away and pulled his wand from its sheath, ignoring his son's question and horrified expression. _

"_Dad…"_

_Lucius' eyes flew to Draco in surprise but he quickly masked it. Draco rarely ever addressed him as anything less formal than "father."_

"_They…" Draco continued, willing his voice not to fail, "They'll… he'll kill her."_

_Lucius regarded his son carefully for a moment and for one brief instant Draco saw the man his father once was. As quickly as it came though, it was gone, and Draco knew he would never see it again._

"_It's the only way to protect you!" Narcissa interrupted, stepping towards them once again. "Don't you understand Draco? This is the only way!"_

"_The only way to what?!" Draco snapped, "To go back to a life of slavery—to a life of pain? I can't do it anymore! I won't! I'm not sacrificing anyone, least of all Pansy, to save my pathetic ass!"_

_There was a fraction of a second where Narcissa Malfoy was shocked to hear her son speak to them like this. He had never defied them outside of the realm of normal teenage boyhood. Before she could process any of this however, Lucius was roaring back, matching his son's tone and volume._

"_No son of mine will shame the name of Malfoy! We know what's best for you Draco! You still don't understand what you're dealing with!"_

"_Actually," Draco said quietly, his voice trembling, "For the first time, I do. I understand perfectly."_

_In an instant Draco drew his wand, bringing it up to his father's neck, effectively freezing him in place, his mother watching in horror as Lucius struggled to comprehend what was happening._

"_I used to look up to you," Draco said, his voice low but steadily growing stronger, "Tell me, would you sacrifice mum if it meant saving your own tail? Or the precious name of Malfoy? You would, wouldn't you." Draco pressed his wand deeper into his father's neck. _

_Despite his position, Lucius smiled, a deep laugh making its way out of his mouth._

"_You can't do it Draco," he told him, his tone almost teasing, "You can't kill me."_

_Draco tightened his hand around his wand and clenched his left fist._

"_Exactly," Draco hissed, "And that's what makes me different than you."_

_Narcissa screamed as Draco flung his father backwards and fired a stunning spell squarely into Lucius' chest, sending him sprawling across the floor. Draco cast his mother a helpless look and ran for Pansy, pulling her to her feet despite her bonds and gripping her tightly to his side._

"_I'm sorry," he said to his mother, his voice once again trembling, "For everything."_

_And with a loud crack, Draco disappeared with Pansy, leaving Narcissa to dissolve into tears._

1111111111111111111111111

Hermione headed down the corridors of Hogwarts feeling lighter than she had in weeks. Despite the fact that she had spent half the night attending an impromptu wedding and the other half sobbing, she was wide eyed and ready for the day.

Though she now realized just how complicated she had made everything over the last few weeks, not to mention how slightly outrageous she had been, she still couldn't shake the tingling warmth at the realization that Ron still wanted her with or without the ability to have children. It didn't matter that Ron had told her this several times before; what mattered was she now believed him. Whatever else she had left to face in the battle with this nasty curse, she now knew she could fight with Ron. She had even agreed to go back to St. Mungo's after the weekend and meet with the Healers.

"Good morning Miss Granger; you certainly look awake for someone who was no doubt up half the night celebrating a wedding."

"So you heard then?" Hermione asked, beaming at Professor McGonagall.

The headmistress smiled, seemingly more to herself than to Hermione, and nodded.

"Received the news in the morning post. Good for them." McGonagall sighed and shook her head, the trace of a smile never leaving her face as she continued to gather the parchment that was littering her desk. "Anyway, I'm afraid I won't be acting much the gracious hostess today. With NEWTs coming up there's quite a bit to do. I've told them not to work you through lunch, so if they get carried away remind them that you need actual sustenance!"

"Yes, yes, we know Minerva. Get out of here will you?"

Hermione smiled up at the portrait, secretly one of her favorites, who winked at her before turning his attention back to McGonagall. The headmistress nodded curtly in response, but Hermione knew better than to think her former transfiguration professor was actually angry as the older witch exited the office.

"Well Miss Granger, you _do_ certainly seem to be in a better mood than you have been lately. Why the sudden change?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she pulled her chair around from McGonagall's desk and turned it to face the wall of portraits.

"I… well…"

"She's made up with the boyfriend Ergenson. Come now, that much is obvious."

Hermione blushed as the portrait of Professor Rubella tutted at Professor Ergenson in disapproval. She had thought it a bit odd at first, talking to the portraits like they were friends. She knew little about Wizarding Portraits and wasn't sure what to expect as far as how human they would behave. It was all still a bit of a mystery to her really, but she had grown to trust the portraits—even enough to tell them of her situation with Ron and the curse.

"Ah ha!" Ergenson shouted, "Is it true then dear?" Though Hermione's expression was enough to tell him it was.

Dumbledore chuckled softly from his place next to Armando Dippett and Hermione felt her face flush even deeper. Dumbledore was the only one of the portraits to have actually known her and Ron in real life.

"Honestly! You're all worse than the vulture girls that attend this school! Shall we get on with the lesson, or would you rather gossip about Miss Granger's life some more?"

"I'd quite like to keep going with the gossip actually…"

Hermione sighed and cast Dumbledore an amused look as the portraits broke out into bickering. And to think she had originally thought they would all be rather distinguished. She couldn't help but giggle slightly at the thought—just knowing enough of Dumbledore and Nigellus should have told her otherwise.

"Right then," Dumbledore at last interrupted, his voice effectively calming the gallery, "I think it best if we begin, yes?"

The portraits muttered in agreement and faced Hermione expectantly.

"We were thinking," Dumbledore continued now that everyone was attentive, "we were thinking that perhaps we could do something a bit more fun. We've crammed your head with enough theory for awhile and it is clear that you are particularly adept at transfiguration. So, what do you say we extend that talent a bit further?"

Hermione watched Dumbledore curiously, a bubble of excitement beginning to fill up within her.

"What did you have in mind?"

1111111111111111111

"This might be a stupid question, but if Seamus is late every single Sunday, why is he the one who keeps the balls?"

Dean rolled his eyes and shoved Ron, who had been lying lazily across his broom a few feet above the ground. Ron gasped as he lost his balance completely and landed face down in the grass.

"Well I thought it was a fair question," he mumbled, picking himself up and shooting Dean a glare.

Hermione snorted from behind him and he instantly felt his annoyance disappear."Because he owns them Ron," Dean explained, "Do you have any idea how much a set of quiditch balls cost? They aren't cheap mate. Seamus, unlike the rest of us, doesn't have to scrape to make ends meet. I swear, never mind Magical Law Enforcement—I really ought to have opened a pub… or any business for that matter!"

Ginny let out a laugh and put a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"It's alright Dean. Those of us enduring the grueling process of the 'Ministry Ladder' will have our day."

"Says the girl dating one of the richest wizards of the age," Katie Bell replied, rolling her eyes.

"Oi!" Harry interjected, genuinely surprised at such an accusation, "I'm not that rich Katie. I'm well off I'll admit, but richest Wizard? Where would you get an idea like that?"

The cluster of friends suddenly went quiet as a few of them began to exchange knowing glances.

"Katie…?" Harry said warningly.

Katie sighed and glanced around at the others as though hoping they would explain instead. It was apparent none of them were going to, so Katie focused on Harry and let the words "Witch Weekly," leave her lips as quickly as possible.

Harry stared at her, too shocked to be angry that Katie, or any of his friends for that matter, had taken anything Witch Weekly had said about him seriously.

"I know, I know!" Katie immediately defended herself, "but it's just that… well I mean, they're occasionally right you know. Think about it Harry. A lot of the generous donations 'bestowed' upon you were very public events. Add those _alone_ to your quiditch salary and… well… you get the idea..."

Harry stood very still as the small cluster of DA members watched him slightly anxiously. Ron especially looked as though he couldn't decide whether to start shouting just to draw the attention away from his friend, or to just wait it out.

"Well then," Harry said at last, "I guess I'll have to go and buy a set of quiditch balls so we don't have to wait on Seamus every weekend then."

To Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's shock, Harry broke into a grin as their friends began to laugh. Harry just shrugged at the incredulous looks they gave him and mouthed 'It doesn't matter.'

"Oi! What's all the hysterics about?"

The clan of quiditch players turned to see George headed towards them, a familiar looking blonde in his wake, both with brooms slung over their shoulders. Ginny cocked an eyebrow towards Harry, who simply gave her a blank look in return.

"Is Seamus _still_ not here? I make an effort to get here late and I still beat him?!" George groaned as he reached the others.

Before anyone else could answer, Seamus' voice came from the opposite direction, slightly out of breath and obviously annoyed.

"Shut up Weasley and help me get these damned balls over there!"

George rolled his eyes and pulled his wand out, shaking his head at his friends.

"You're a wizard you idiot! _Locomotor_ quiditch balls."

Seamus jogged the rest of the way to the small gathering and shot George a glare as the trunk of balls landed with a neat thud at the red head's feet.

"Right," George said cheekily, smirking at Seamus before bringing his attention back to the group at large, "This is Verity, one of the shop assistants. It looks like we're going to have quite a match! You playing Hermione?"

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes in response.

"Lavender and the Patil's should be here soon," Seamus offered sympathetically, "So you won't be bored."

Hermione couldn't help but smirk and merely raised her eyebrows in response as George and Seamus began to divide the teams.

"I'm fairly certain I won't be bored either," Hermione muttered to Ron, who chuckled slightly and placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it," Ron told her quietly. "Padma's fine, just talk to her. I'm sure she'd appreciate some intellectual discussion anyway."

"Oi! Pay attention Ron!"

Ron looked up and gave his brother an annoyed look.

"As if I don't already know what position I'm playing."

"Actually," Fred's voice entered, having just appeared with Angelina, "We thought it'd be fun to mix it up a little. Besides, it's not fair to whoever ends up playing seeker against Harry now is it?"

Harry blinked but wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Right," Katie Bell said, her voice slightly clipped, "What do you play blondie?"

Verity started and quirked an eyebrow at Katie before tossing her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder.

"Beater, usually," she said coolly.

Ron nearly laughed but Hermione's discrete kick to his shin effectively silenced him.

"Well how bout this…"

For the next 20 minutes, the group 'discussed' who should play what position. In the end, Harry and Ron were to play beaters with Verity, Fred, and Seamus as their chasers, Angelina as keeper, and Dean as seeker. Ginny and Katie were the opposing beaters, George, Cho, and Colin as chasers, Neville as Keeper and Dean's cousin Jenine as seeker.

"This is going to be great!" Ron said, grinning as he swung his beater's bat. "Oddest mix of players, I have to say."

Harry nodded, "Should be good. Though I'm not sure putting Katie as beater was the best move. What's her deal?"

Ginny snickered as she came up behind the boys, who both turned to look at her expectantly.

"Oh come on, you can't be that clueless."

Ron and Harry exchanged glances and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Katie has had a thing for George for as long as I can remember. You've really never noticed?"

Ron and Harry just continued to look at Ginny blankly.

"Oh for goodness sakes you two. It's a wonder either one of you can get a girl, thick as you are."

Harry broke into a grin at this to which Ginny just rolled her eyes again.

"Don't you get cocky Potter. Anyway, Katie's miffed about George bringing Verity here. To be fair, he does tend to string her along a bit. He's sort of a natural flirt—I don't think he realizes that Katie actually fancies him. They've always just been great friends as far as he's concerned."

Ron just shook his head and mounted his broom.

"Whatever you say Gin," he laughed before taking off to take a few practice swings with Katie, who looked about ready to break her bat in half.

"How do you do it?" Harry asked, completely serious.

"Do what?"

"Know everything," Harry said simply.

Ginny laughed and gave Harry an almost pitying look.

"I don't know everything, though you're perfectly entitled to think so if you like. I just watch people Harry. You pick up on a lot if you're half observant."

"I like it."

"Oh do you?" Ginny teased, not at all missing the fact that Harry was standing much closer than he had been when Ron was present.

"Mmhmm."

"Well—"

"Oi! Get in the air you two!"

Ginny smirked and mounted her broom, enjoying Harry's disgruntled face at being interrupted.

"Coming?" she asked sweetly.

Harry rolled his eyes before kicking off after her, mumbling something about dating a girl with too many brothers.

Back on the ground Hermione sighed and steeled herself for making conversation with Lavender and the Patils, who had arrived during the arguing over who was going to play what position. She was beginning to wonder why she was even here when something Parvati said actually caught her attention.

"I didn't realize that Angelina could still fly," she said to Lavender as the pair watched Fred gently lift Angelina from her wheelchair and onto a fancy looking broom.

"She wouldn't if she was actually a paraplegic," Hermione answered, causing the other girls to jump. They hadn't realized Hermione was there.

"What?" Parvati asked.

"Well," Hermione explained, "Paraplegics are paralyzed from the waist down, I think…"

"Yeah," Padma said nodding, "It's usually caused by spinal damage."

"So she's not paralyzed from the waist down?" Lavender asked, clearly confused.

"No. The damage caused by the fire ruined her actual feet beyond repair, and falling debris are what caused severe damaged to her femurs and knees. She was lucky the healers didn't have to amputate apparently."

Padma nodded, "It must have been pretty bad then, if they even considered amputation. Medi-wizards rarely ever need to amputate."

Hermione just shrugged. "Well that's what they said. I don't know any more details. Fred and George custom built that broom for her though. She can't fly like she used to, but she can certainly out do me."

"They custom designed a broom?" Padma said, slightly awestruck, "Geniuses those gits."

"Sickening isn't it?" Hermione nodded.

"Very. I can't imagine what kind of scores they would have earned had they actually applied themselves and sat their NEWTS."

"Probably still not as well as you from what I hear," Hermione said, turning her attention from the game and to Padma, "You were head girl, right?"

Padma smirked and nodded, "Only because you didn't return."

Hermione blushed and shook her head. "I wasn't necessarily going to…"

Hermione closed her mouth at the look Padma was giving her and the two eventually broke into grins.

Parvati and Lavender had become bored long before the conversation had turned to NEWTS and were now focusing on what was going on above them, which Hermione had to admit was fairly entertaining. The competition was much friendlier than games between houses and it was definitely interesting to see Ron and Harry as beaters.

"Ooo, that looked like it hurt," Lavender said, wincing. "Katie's being absolutely viscous! What's gotten into her?"

"I dunno," Padma said, a look of concern etched across her face, "But she'd better cool it before Ginny goes 'captain' on her."

"Captian?" Hermione asked, wincing along with the three other girls as Katie smashed a bludger full force towards Verity, who was beginning to look angrier by the minute.

"Yeah, she was captain her 7th year—didn't you know?" Parvati explained, not taking her eyes off the players circling above them. "Don't know how on earth she managed with all the Order stuff on top of her studies. Gryffindor took the cup though, and owe much of it to her from what Collin told us. A lot of people really weren't into quidditch that year for obvious reasons, but Ginny was apparently bound and determined to keep real life moving."

"Yeah," Hermione said quietly, "She's rather good at that."

"Really now!" Lavender exclaimed indignantly, "If she knocks Seamus off that broom I'm going to throttle her!"

"You won't have to; it looks like Harry is about to take care of that."

Sure enough, Harry had flown over to Katie and looked to be having an outright row with her above the pitch. Words such as "friendly match" and "completely out of line" were all the girls on the ground could make out but the commotion was enough to catch the other players' attention. Katie didn't seem at all subdued by the lecture and just stared hard at Harry as he made his point and flew off to join the game once again.

Only minutes later, the game was halted and the players began to converge around Verity as they made their way back to the ground. At first, Hermione wasn't sure what had happened, but one look at Verity explained everything. Blood was streaming from her nose and now covered the front of her robes. She wore a blazing look and ignored everyone's inquiries about her nose, staring hard at Katie who had landed somewhat away from the group, a shocked expression on her face.

"What happened?" Hermione muttered to Padma as the girls headed towards their friends, "I was watching Fred with the quaffle."

"Katie," Padma replied, clearly stunned by the whole ordeal, "She just… smashed the bludger right in her face! I mean, that's technically what she's supposed to do—but not when the player doesn't even have the ball!"

Hermione groaned and hung back from the crowd of quidditch players. Apparently only a couple of people had seen what had happened and were now conveying the story to the others while Ron stopped Verity's bleeding and began to look at her nose properly to check for breaks.

"She aimed right for her!" Dean said, sounding just as shocked and angry as everyone looked. Their attention swung to Katie, who was still standing slightly away from the group with a look of disbelief on her face.

"It's broken," Ron said flatly, lowering his wand. "Do you trust me to mend it for you? Or would you prefer we take you to a healer?"

Verity shook her head and replied evenly that Ron could do it. She was clearly having trouble restraining herself, and no one seemed to blame her.

Comprehension seemed to be finally dawning on Katie as her expression changed from shocked to mortified. Without a word, she spun around and began nearly running from the pitch.

George, who had so far been unable to say anything, watched her go for a moment with narrowed eyes before mounting his broom and zipping after her. It didn't take him long to catch up to her and her expertly pulled around in front of her, forcing her to come to a halt.

"_What _the bloody hell was _that_!?" he demanded, dismounting his broom.

Katie just stood, her heart hammering in her chest, and tried to open her mouth to speak but no words came out. George threw his arms out and looked at her expectantly before determining she wasn't going to say anything.

"Merlin, Kates! What's gotten into you? I've never seen you act like that befo…"

"Don't you 'Kates' me George Weasley! Don't you even dare!" Katie burst out suddenly, catching both herself and George by surprise.

"Huh?"

"Just… nevermind!" Katie spluttered, "I'm sorry ok? I acted like an idiot. I'll apologize to the little blonde pixie tomorrow… I'll come by the shop or something. Just… do me a favor and stay the hell away from me George!"

George blinked and shook his head, his already hot temper rising once again.

"Wait, wait, wait! What are you yelling at _ME_ for? I'm not the one who just took out a perfect stranger's face in a friendly quidditch match! Merlin woman! It's not like you don't know how to aim! That was completely intentional and you know it!"

Katie stared at George a minute, her jaw tightly clenched and her eyes blazing. She looked completely torn for a moment before she burst out again, talking so quickly that George had to listen carefully to understand what she was saying.

"I know it was ridiculous ok! There's no excuse. But how else am I supposed to react when the guy I'm crazy about—the _one_ guy I've been crazy about for _years_!—brings some random girl to a function!?"

George froze, and even Katie once again looked shocked with herself as the two stood in silence for nearly a full minute before Katie apparated with a sharp pop.

1111111111111111

"So I don't know about you mate, but I think I'd be willing to pay _galleons _to see that expression on my brother's face again. I've never seen him look so flustered!"

Harry only grunted in response as he scratched something out on the parchment he had rolled out across the small dinning table.

"Though I do feel bad for Katie… and Verity for that matter. Girls are absolutely mad!"

Harry just nodded and muttered his agreement as he continued to scribble at his parchment. Ron wrinkled his nose at his best friend, realizing that Harry wasn't even paying him the slightest bit of attention.

"Oi, what are you doing? Harry? Harry!"

Harry looked up in surprise as though he only just realized Ron was even in the room.

"Sorry?"

Ron rolled his eyes and pulled the parchment away from Harry to see what he was so enthralled in. He lifted an eyebrow at Harry's scratch marks and then looked back at Harry, still confused.

"What is this?" He asked when it became clear that Harry had no intention of explaining himself voluntarily.

Harry snatched the parchment back and looked away from Ron, suddenly looking almost shy.

"I… well after what Katie said today… I just thought that maybe we should, you know, actually pay attention to our finances."

Ron just looked at Harry in exasperated amusement for moment.

"And why exactly do you seem embarrassed about that?"

Harry shrugged sheepishly and mumbled something into the parchment rather than to Ron as he once again began scratching away with his quill.

"What?" Ron asked, still confused.

"I said," Harry conceded, at last looking up fully from the parchment, "that you never seemed to like it much when I talked about money before."

They both fell silent—Harry almost awkwardly so, and Ron more contemplatively.

"I think," Ron said at last, "That perhaps that point in my life is over. And I don't really think you have anything to be ashamed of Harry. I never realized I made you feel that way… just for having money and all."

"Maybe," Harry said slowly, "But I think I was always just slightly… stunned… that I even had… well anything really, never mind money. Anyway, it's all a moot point now isn't it. Look at this…" Harry slid the parchment back over to Ron and pointed at the bottom with his quill. "That number is yours, the next is mine, and the third is Hermione's."

Ron's eyes bulged as he scanned the numbers and then looked back at Harry as though expecting him to say he was joking.

"Can't be."

"It is," Harry said firmly, "And that's not including my salary..."

There was a long pause in which Ron seemed unable to formulate a complete sentence. Harry just sat and waited until at last Ron looked up at him and with a confused shake of his head muttered "bloody hell" under his breath. "How in the name of Merlin's beard did we not _know_ this?!"

Harry shrugged helplessly. "Well, money isn't something I've ever been too concerned with. I mean, when they started to throw the stuff at us, I was a bit shocked. I never thought to look into what it actually amounted to though!"

"Bloody hell."

"You said that already."

"Yeah I know but… bloody hell! What are we going to _do_ with it? We sure as hell don't need all that. I mean, we need some of it obviously since I don't have an actual job but…"

"But this is far more than we need, I agree."

"Far more than anyone needs I should say."

"Right, well… I had… well I had a thought."

Ron waited as Harry suddenly became rather fascinated with the table top and kept his gaze down.

"What is with you Harry? It's just me for goodness sakes."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry Ron, I just have a lot on my mind at the moment and it's all a bit… well it's a bit overwhelming alright?"

"Trust me Harry," Ron replied, not bothering to keep the amusement out of his voice, "I understand."

"Right," Harry replied sheepishly, "Well, what I was thinking with this money is… won't they need money and financial backing to do more research into the whole… the whole sterilization curse thing? I mean, I know they're already starting, but they can only do so much without proper financing right? So, I don't know, do you think we could, well I guess fund the research?"

Ron sat silently at the table with his tongue stuck firmly to the roof of his mouth. He was never sure how to describe what he felt when the subject of the curse came up. Part of him wanted more than anything to just pretend he was much too young to be concerned with such things. But he couldn't. The amount of powerful emotions he felt over the subject were foreign and complicated— to the point where he completely understood how irrational Hermione had behaved.

"Harry that…" he began finally, only to close his mouth mid-sentence, surprising himself at how overcome he suddenly became.

Harry leaned forward and placed a hand on Ron's shoulder, not knowing what else to say as Ron quickly composed himself.

"That would be brilliant Harry," he said at last.

* * *

Pretty please review... even though I made you wait 4 months... pleeease... 


	23. If You Want To

Chapter 22- If You Want To

_Harry sighed and trudged silently down the stairs behind his trunk which Ron was hovering down with them. He almost felt like this was some sort of deranged funeral processional, and that he ought to be inside his trunk, like a coffin._

"_That's the lot," Ron announced, dropping the trunk with a thud in front of Hermione, along with Hedwig's empty cage and Harry's broom._

_Hermione wrinkled her nose slightly but kept her mouth closed. She thought that for someone moving out of the house they'd lived in for 16 years that there wasn't really that much to be moved. With a flick of her wand and a muttered incantation, Hermione banished Harry's personal belongings to the Burrow, causing a sharp intake of breath from Petunia, who was standing at the edge of the room with her arm gripped fiercely around Dudley._

_Vernon's mustache twitched but he stayed silent as the three teenagers began to assemble themselves. _

"_Well," Harry said at last, his throat feeling oddly tight, "I erm… I'm going. You'll need to go on holiday, like I told you. My birthday is tomorrow so the protection will be broken then. I don't think you'll be a target, but just to be safe you ought to, you know, not stick around for awhile…"_

_Harry trailed off as his family members starred at him. He heard the faint cracking of Ron's knuckles and decided that the quicker they left, the better. He had expected to be thrilled to leave the Dursleys. After today, he'd never have to see any of them again. Ever. Yet there was a tiny part of him, so minute that he barely recognized it, that was... sad. It wasn't quite because he was leaving them, but more the finality of everything. It had taken him days to figure out why on earth he was upset. He'd become more and more quiet, causing Ron and Hermione to become anxious he knew, but they had kept their peace. He had figured it out last night when he had been unable to sleep and told Hermione about it while Ron slept loudly on the makeshift bed to his left. _

_As much as they had hurt him, as angry as he was with them, there was still a tiny part of Harry that so desperately wanted the Dursleys to love him. He couldn't really fathom why, but Hermione had seemed to think it made perfect sense. They were the only family he had ever known before Hogwarts. They were supposed to make him feel loved, not neglected and lonely as he'd spent his childhood._

"_Just get on with it boy," Vernon snarled. "You and your freak friends just get out of here and take that… that freak stuff of yours out of my family's life!"_

_Anger welled up within Harry, but years of practice kept it at bay. Ron however, had not had years of practice. Before Harry or Hermione could stop him, Ron was in Vernon's face, his wand pressed into his cheek. _

"_Shut UP!" Ron seethed, unable to contain it any longer. Weeks spent seeing just a slice of what Harry had experienced for years and years was enough to make Ron ill, and he'd wanted nothing more than an opportunity to take Dursley out. "You really have no idea how vile you are, do you? You don't have the faintest idea of what kind of person Harry is. Do you know what he could do to you? DO YOU?! He could tear you apart, limb from limb, and nobody would blame him! Do you hear me? NOBODY! But instead, he tries to help you! He owes you nothing, but he tries to help you. I've never been more disgusted with a human being in my entire life, and trust me, I've met some pretty disgusting people. You probably don't even give a damn what I'm saying right now, but you'll listen because of this," he jabbed his wand further into Vernon's cheek and stood there, starring at the terrified mass of a man in front of him for a moment. "You know something," Ron said at last, taking his wand slowly away from Vernon's face. "You aren't even worth it. Harry on the other hand, I'd _die_ for him. Is there anyone who would do that for you? Hm? Harry was more of a man at 11 years old then you have or will ever be."_

_Without another word, Ron turned and looked back at Harry and Hermione who were both starring at him with stunned expressions. Too angry to do anything else, Ron turned and apparated to the Burrow. _

_Harry continued to stare at the shocked-white faces of the Dursleys until Hermione gently took his elbow._

"_Are you ready?" she asked softly, only loud enough for him to hear._

_Harry nodded slightly, and together with Hermione he turned his back on the Dursleys and disappeared._

111111111111111111111111111

Ron sighed and glanced at the clock towards the lecture hall's exit for the hundredth time. With his exams in less than two weeks, he really couldn't afford to be as distracted as he was, but he just couldn't help it. He was meeting Hermione for her follow up appointment as soon as his class let out and in all honesty anything else just seemed far less important. He silently hoped that Padma was taking better notes than he was.

At last, the class was dismissed and the group of hopeful healers began to file out. It took Ron everything in him not to just apparate the two floors to where Hermione's appointment was. He also had to make an appointment with the appropriate healers to discuss funding research, but he couldn't think about that at the moment and had told Harry so. Hermione's appointment was overwhelming enough, and with Fred's wedding the same weekend preceding his exams, Ron had decided to just accept feeling exhausted and overwhelmed as part of everyday life for the next two weeks.

When at last he reached Hermione, Ron instantly felt himself relax. At least she was letting him be here; at least she wanted him to be part of all of this with her. He really wasn't sure what he would have done if she hadn't.

"Hey."

Hermione looked up and smiled, her expression only mildly showing her apprehension.

"How was class?" She asked as Ron bent down to her chair and kissed her in greeting.

Ron snorted in response and shrugged. "Couldn't really focus; you?"

At this, Hermione grinned widely and an almost mischievous look came to her eyes.

"It was quite good actually… but you'll have to wait a little while before I tell you any more about it."

Before Ron could question her further, the healer entered the small waiting room and strode over to greet them. The healer, a slightly older witch who wore her hair in a severe looking bun, seemed to remind Ron and Hermione why they were there. Hermione rose to her feet as Ron's hand instantly sought after Hermione's, both of them feeling a bit awkward at the realization that they were currently being greeted by a fertility specialist.

"I'm Healer Simpson; it's wonderful to meet you Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley."

Ron and Hermione mumbled their greetings in response as Healer Simpson steadily took them in, her eyes combing over their features intuitively.

"Relax," she said warmly, her tone indicating that she seemed to understand the couple's discomfort, "I know this isn't easy. But you are not the first couple to go through this. We'll just take things one step at a time, alright?"

Hermione visibly relaxed and Ron's grip on her hand became much gentler.

"Alright," Simpson said again, "Let's get you to an examination room and talk about things a bit further, then I'll explain the procedures I'll be doing."

At this, Hermione's eyes shot to Ron and her grip on his hand tightened somewhat. When they reached the doorway of the examination room, she stopped short and spun around to face Ron with a determined look on her face.

"Do you think we could have a minute? It won't take long."

Healer Simpson glanced from Ron to Hermione and then nodded. Hermione was suddenly thankful that they were, at the very least, dealing with a Healer who seemed to be familiar with how difficult this was on more than just one level.

"Just come in whenever you're ready," Healer Simpson instructed before entering the room and closing the door behind her.

"Hermione?"

Ron looked at her expectantly as Hermione began to bite her lip.

"Listen Ron, I… some of the things we're about to go in there and talk about… they're, well I'm just not sure they're things you want to hear about. I mean… it's not like we're talking about…"

Ron held his hands up and silenced her before she could go any further. Hermione closed her mouth and looked anxiously up at her boyfriend, trying desperately to remain casual.

"Hermione," he said slowly, taking her hands from where they had been knotting themselves together in front of her and into his own, "I know what we're about to talk about in there. I _am_ in the Healer program after all. And I'm not pretending it's not going to get incredibly awkward, and that I'm not going to turn redder than I probably ever have, but I _want_ to do this with you ok? I mean… that is, if _you're_ok with me being there."

Hermione stared at Ron in absolute wonder for a moment before launching herself at him and hugging him tighter than she had in ages. Ron let out a soft 'oof' of surprise and then hugged her back, wondering how in the world he had allowed her to shut him out for so long before.

At last, Hermione released him and took a deep breath, bracing herself before placing a hand on the door handle.

"Ready then?" she asked.

Ron ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "Ready as I'm going to be."

Together, they stepped though the doorway and braced themselves for what they both knew was going to be an uncomfortable hour.

The interview and examination that followed proved to be both, and it wasn't until nearly two hours later that Hermione and Ron at last found themselves at home in Ron's flat.

"Well you were right about one thing," Hermione said with a sigh, flopping herself down in one of the kitchen chairs as Ron began to set up the kettle, "I think that was the reddest I've ever seen you."

Ron rolled his eyes as he began to rummage around for a set of cups.

"You stay silent for the last half hour and then break it with that?"

Hermione smiled apologetically as Ron shook his head at her, smirking. She had indeed become rather contemplative towards the end of her appointment and Ron wasn't too sure what he was supposed to do or say. They both felt varying degrees of overwhelmed and stressed as of late, but there was little that could be done about it. If the war had taught them anything, it was that there was a time and a place for complaints—this wasn't it.

The kettle began to whistle, breaking the thick yet still comfortable silence and Ron rose to remove it from the burner. He paused as he realized Hermione had risen with him and was standing far closer than was necessary—not that he minded in the least. It was just slightly unusual. He turned around and met Hermione's gaze only to have his stomach knot and his blood begin to pound loudly in his ears as her gaze pierced into him.

"You didn't have to do that today," she told him softly, sending shivers up Ron's spine as she brought her hands up to rest them on his chest.

"I wanted to," Ron said seriously, loosening his tie as he spoke—it had suddenly become unbearably warm. "I told you Hermione, I…"

"I know," Hermione interrupted, still staring at Ron who was now staring right back with the same intensity. "I just… thank you."

Unable to stand it any longer, Ron lowered his head and closed the short distance between them, mildly shocked as rather than being met with a chaste kiss, Hermione's lips hungrily sought his own, making no indication they were going to be parted any time soon.

Not at all opposed, Ron wrapped his arms tightly around Hermione's smaller frame and deepened their kiss as Hermione brought her hands up to tangle them in Ron's hair.

It was different. Neither of them were exactly sure of why or how, but it was. It wasn't until they found themselves on Ron's bed, his shirt unexplainably missing, and Hermione's blouse halfway on its way to joining it, did they realize just _how_ different.

It had been weeks since they'd had any form of romantic contact. Their separation and their emotional reunion had left little room for such things. But now, all Hermione wanted was to feel the wizard holding her, and all Ron wanted was to forget everything other than the witch in his arms.

Hermione gasped softly as Ron's lips found her neck, his hands leaving trails of fire down her sides. Then, though in hindsight neither one of them would have the faintest idea where he had found the willpower, Ron pulled away, hovering above Hermione as they trembled, his hand frozen at the hemline of her skirt as though completely uncertain of how it had ended up there.

It was Hermione who found her voice first, her eyes never leaving Ron's.

"If you want to," she said, her voice barely audible, as she moved her hand to cover Ron's, "we can."

Ron suddenly found himself wondering that perhaps he had been right to think that a person could indeed explode from too many emotions; he certainly seemed to be on the brink of such a moment.

"Are you…" he began, stunned to find himself capable of speech as he swallowed thickly in an effort to stay the trembling in his voice, "I mean are you ready for… well for _that_?"

"Are_you_?"

The question caught Ron completely off guard and he blinked in surprise, breaking their eye contact for the first time since he had paused. He suddenly felt less dazed than he had a few moments ago—as though a powerful drug had suddenly begun to wear off slightly.

_Was_ he ready for this? Was _she_? He would have thought that an offer like the one she had just given him would have been met with… well definitely _not_ hesitation.

All at once, Ron was keenly aware of where his hands were, of where Hermione's were, of where _they_ were. The magnitude of the question suddenly sank into Ron's chest, somehow surpassing the lack of blood and oxygen currently flowing to his brain. His mouth began to go dry as he continued to simply stare down at Hermione.

"Ron?"

With a jolt, Ron quickly withdrew his hand, suddenly feeling more terrified than he had in front of Voldemort himself.

"No," he whispered, his ears burning, "I… no."

Hermione's eyes widened as Ron scrambled away from her, turning his back to her and sitting at the edge of the bed, hanging his head in his hands.

"Ron," she said gently, pulling herself up and beginning to unsteadily refasten the buttons of her blouse that had somehow wound up undone. "It's ok, I…"

But she didn't finish as Ron jerkily stood and began pacing his room wildly, raking his hands through his hair.

"I'm sorry Hermione, I… I can't… I just… are you… I mean… that was… good _Merlin_ I…"

"Ron," Hermione said firmly, climbing off of his bed, her blush matching his for once, "It's ok," she repeated. "I'll… I'll go. It's… I'll just… I'm going to my flat. Ok?"

Ron nodded helplessly, as he continued to pace, avoiding Hermione's eyes.

11111111111111111111111

Harry cringed as he came to a grinding halt in the ashes of the Ministry's guest entrance hearth. Though he almost would have preferred taking the phone box, he really didn't fancy having to wear a name tag boasting that he was picking his girlfriend up for a date. The Ministry had granted him access to the guests' floo system, which was primarily for family members of ministry officials and far more accessible than the phone booth. You had to fill out all kinds of special paper work and be approved by about 12 different officials to gain permanent access to it, so really Harry felt that he ought to be grateful for the pass regardless of his dislike for both traveling by floo and the corrupt system of the ministry in general.

Ducking his head, determined not to draw attention to himself, he stepped out of the fire place and into the Ministry's main foyer. He avoided as many stares as he could, considering it a small victory that he had at least made it to the wand check in before being assaulted by hand shakes and shoulder claps.

If this didn't prove that he was completely crazy about Ginny, nothing did. He could have just told her that he'd meet her at the pub, or even just outside the Ministry building, but oh no. He had offered to pick her up properly.

He was truly a prat.

"Harry? Harry!"

Harry groaned as the buzz of ministry officials began to pause as he walked through the corridor towards the elevator, focusing straight ahead and hoping against hope that his hair was still covering his scar. He was _almost_ there.

He was so focused on not being noticed that he nearly ran smack into Mr. Weasley, who had been trying in vain to catch his attention ever since he had passed through the wand inspection.

"Heavens Harry! Are you going deaf?"

Harry blinked up at Mr. Weasley, dazed by his near collision.

"What?"

Mr. Weasley laughed and gently began to steer Harry away from the slowly forming crowd, bringing him to a vacant elevator (a sheer miracle) and slamming the gate shut before anyone else had a chance to join them.

"Alright there Harry?"

Harry nodded and let out a long sigh.

"I'm sorry Mr. Weasley. I get so focused on _not_ creating a scene that I tend to… er… get a little lost in myself."

Mr. Weasley chuckled slightly and patted Harry bracingly on the shoulder.

"Quite understandable Harry; quite understandable." Harry did his best not to blush as Mr. Weasley punched the button to Ginny's floor without bothering to ask where Harry was headed. "I'm glad to have run into you though. I was actually just going to tell Molly that we really need to see more of you three. Don't apologize!" Mr. Weasley pressed on, seeing Harry begin to look slightly guilty, "Goodness knows how busy you three are. It's just that since you've all sort of cut yourselves off from the world in many ways, it's hard to keep you informed."

Harry looked up at Mr. Weasley curiously, suddenly noticing the excitement in his face and the slight urgency in his tone.

"What's happened Mr. Weasley?"

At this, Arthur's smile spread into an all out grin, piquing Harry's curiosity even further.

"We cannot discuss it in great detain here, but we'll be sure to fill you in more properly in the comfort of our own homes…"

"Who's 'we?'" Harry interrupted.

Mr. Weasley waved him off as the elevator began to slow down. "Never mind that for the moment. Let's just say that things are going to start turning around here. Ginny can tell you a bit more, but how about you four come over to the Burrow tonight? I'm sure Molly could throw together a pie or something. What do you think?"

Harry blinked, not at all accustomed to Mr. Weasley being quite so secretive. "Er, yeah, that'd be great. We'll see you then."

"Right. Off you go Harry. Ginny isn't much for patience."

Once again, Harry felt himself blush as he stepped out of the elevator and made his way towards Ginny's cubicle. He wasn't exactly certain when the entire world had realized he and Ginny were back together, there had never been a formal announcement, but everyone seemed to know anyway.

"You made it!" Ginny's voice broke into his thoughts, "I was slightly afraid you'd get mauled like the last time. You really_don't_ have to pick me up at my office you know. I could have just met you."

Harry smiled despite himself, leaning across Ginny's desk to kiss her cheek in greeting.

"Yes. I know. But I _want_ to pick you up."

Ginny rolled her eyes as she rolled up the stacks of parchment in front of her and shoved them into a drawer.

"Do you ever organize anything?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrow in amusement at her.

"Not usually. Never lost anything though, so I don't see why it matters. Anyway, that's not important. We have some things to discuss Mr. Potter."

"Yeah, I ran into your dad on the way up here. He wants the four of us to come over tonight. What's all the fuss about?"

Ginny forced her crammed desk drawer closed and looked up at Harry suspiciously. "That wasn't what I was referring to."

"Huh?" Harry said blankly.

Ginny once again rolled her eyes and came out from behind her desk to stand in front of Harry, one hand on her hip and an expectant look on her face.

"What my dad was referring to is the only reason I'm not highly upset with you. That news is too good to be crushed by blockhead boyfriends. But, _darling_, is there anything you'd like to tell me?

Harry swallowed, hoping it didn't sound quite as much like a gulp as he suspected it did, and looked nervously at Ginny.

"Ummm… I don't think so?"

"Try again."

"Uhh…"

Ginny sighed and couldn't help but smirk as Harry squirmed in front of her. "What department do I work for Harry? What could I have found out that you haven't told me?"

The light suddenly seemed to turn on and Harry's eyes grew wide. "Oh."

Ginny laughed and swatted Harry's arm playfully.

"Oh? All you can say is 'Oh'? Goodness Harry, if I were going to be playing in my first International Quidditch match I'd sure as hell tell some people!"

Harry just stood awkwardly in front of Ginny who looked utterly amused by his embarrassment.

"I… Well it's not like it's really a big deal," Harry began to explain himself, "I mean, the only way we can make it to the cup is if we beat Ireland by like, a kazillion points, and I don't get to play seeker… I'm basically rubbish at chasing and…"

Harry stopped short as Ginny stood on her tiptoes and silenced him with her lips. Before Harry could even figure out what was going on, Ginny's lips had left his and she stood, smirking and waiting for him to come back to himself.

"I have to admit," she said quietly, when at last Harry stopped blinking at her stupidly, "I quite like that method of shutting you up."

Harry opened his mouth to retort but quickly closed it as a small smile crept across his face.

"Me too."

They stood for a moment, just smiling at each other. Since Remus and Tonks' wedding, the unsaid things that used to hang between Harry and Ginny had been shattered. The silence they shared spoke volumes to them both, even if they didn't always say it.

"Should we go?" Ginny said at last, to which Harry smiled and offered her his arm.

111111111111111111111111

"Ron? Oi, you'd better not be snogging Hermione on _my_ couch!"

Harry grinned as he hung up his robe and made his way to the living room, fully expecting to find his two friends partially entwined as he usually did when he left them alone in the flat—at least that's how he had come to expect to find them before their temporary split. Instead however, he was met with a very shell shocked red head.

"Ron? Everything alright mate? I was only kidding…"

Ron suddenly leapt off the couch and darted towards Harry.

"Thank Merlin you're home! Harry I… I don't even know where to start!"

Harry just stood, dumbfounded, and stared at Ron in wonder. All at once he remembered what today had been and he instantly regretted his earlier teasing.

"Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry. I forgot for a minute that today was Hermione's appointment. Did it go alright? Is she ok?"

Ron blinked, looking for a moment like he had no idea what Harry was talking about.

"Huh? Hermione's… Oh! No, no that went fine… well I mean, as fine as it could go I guess… but no, that's not it."

"Then what the bloody hell are you so flustered about? You're starting to worry me."

Ron raked his hands through his hair and began to pace, leaving Harry to watch in confusion.

"It might help if you say something Ron," Harry tried after Ron had completed nearly three laps around their small living room. "Just calm down. Is anyone hurt?"

Ron shook his head and stopped pacing but he still didn't bring his eyes to Harry's. He took a deep breath and flopped himself down on the armchair. Harry wrinkled his brow and sat down across from his friend, waiting rather impatiently.

"Harry I don't know why I'm so freaked out."

Harry just sat on the couch, still completely confused, but softening slightly as he realized just how much Ron was struggling internally to rehash whatever had happened.

"Well…"

"Just don't say anything for a minute," Ron interrupted, "I mean, it's awkward enough already but if I don't talk about it somehow then I'm going to go nuts."

Harry raised his eyebrows but didn't comment as Ron hung his head in his hands and avoided eye contact. Harry should have realized from the get go that Ron _willingly_wanting to talk about something was a pretty big sign that he was truly flustered.

"Hermione and I got back from her appointment today and… well we were just making tea! One minute I'm taking the kettle off and the next minute we're in my room… on my bed… and…"

Harry blinked as Ron paused, still not looking up. What the bloody hell were they talking about _this_ for?

"She… we… I mean we both… she said it was ok and… I… I mean… I told her that I… that I wasn't ready."

They sat in silence for a moment while Ron worked up the courage to actually look up. Harry had to admit that of all things, this was probably the last thing he had expected.

"Well," he said at last, looking at Ron with a raised eyebrow, "So?"

Ron's eyes widened as he looked at Harry in disbelief.

"What do you mean '_so_?'! What kind of bloke turns down… _that_ from his girlfriend!?"

"Ron," Harry said patiently, surprised to find himself actually quite comfortable discussing this, "You're a decent bloke for one. Secondly, it's not a huge deal. I'm sure it was awkward, but not the end of the world."

"Well yeah… it was…really, _really_ awkward… but still! What kind of bloke…"

"The kind," Harry cut him off, "that is mature enough to recognize that there's a lot more to it than just sex," He said bluntly, causing Ron to sit back in his chair and give him a funny look.

"How are you so… rational about it?! You don't know what it's like to have to… you know… tell her no. Isn't that what _she's_ supposed to do?"

Harry suddenly began to go slightly red and kept his tongue glued firmly to the roof of his mouth.

"What?" Ron prompted.

Harry just looked at Ron and shrugged slightly. Ron's eyes widened yet again as he cringed slightly.

"You mean you _do_ know what it's… what it's like?"

Harry nodded slowly, trying to gauge whether or not Ron was going to allow him to go on. Ron took a deep breath and closed his eyes, resolving himself to hearing some things he didn't necessarily want to.

"Go on."

"Sixth year," Harry said, relieved that Ron wasn't going to start yelling, "Ginny had to walk away from me once. It was awkward as all hell, but it was fine."

"Did you have to tell her no?" Ron asked, looking determinedly over Harry's shoulder.

"Sort of. Neither one of us wanted to… well I mean we _wanted_ to… but you know what I mean. But it got to a point where… I mean I just sort of told her that she had to leave, other wise… you know. She did, and later we met back up and talked it out a bit."

"Yeah but, you still didn't have to actually _turn her down_," Ron said at last able to look Harry in the face, which had become a shade of red that rivaled Ron's.

"Well kinda. She told me later that she wouldn't have told me no."

"What?" Ron sputtered, "Why not?"

Harry shrugged. "In the moment thing I guess. She was really relieved that I made her leave."

"Oh."

Ron and Harry stayed silent again, Harry wondering if Ron felt like imploding due to embarrassment like he did. He and Ron might have been best mates and all, but this was more than a bit personal.

"Harry," Ron said at last, "Whenever we talk about things like this again… not that it'll be often mind you, but just if it ever does come up from time to time… I'm just going to pretend you're still daring Cho, alright?"

Harry stared at Ron for a second before breaking out into a fit of laughter. Ron just rolled his eyes while Harry composed himself.

"Fine. Whatever works. Can we please just change the subject? How _was_ Hermione's appointment? I mean did it accomplish anything?"

Ron sighed and sank back into the couch.

"I guess so. I mean, all we really did is talk about her fallopian tubes and other such exciting topics. The Healer did some exams, spell work mostly, to see specifically what parts of… would you like me to continue or are you going to make that face the entire time?"

Harry's face indeed indicated that he was rather disgusted, but quickly unwrinkled his nose and sat up attentively.

"Sorry. I can't imagine _you_sitting through all this though, no offence."

Ron just sighed again and nodded. "Yes, well, I _am_ in love with her you know."

Harry just smiled and shook his head. "Anyway, tell me the rest later. You need to go work things out with Hermione now because the four of us are going to your parents for desert."

"We are?"

"Yeah. Some huge stuff went down at the ministry today. Ginny told me about a lot of it, but your dad will explain it all tonight; go on."

Ron groaned and reluctantly got off the couch. He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to say to Hermione exactly, but he may as well get it over with.

"I'll be up in bit then. That is if I don't die from utter embarrassment first."

Harry just rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at Ron, who narrowly missed it as he left the room to find Hermione.

She wasn't hard to find. He hadn't even said a word when he entered the flat before Ginny silently pointed towards Hermione's bedroom, not even looking up from her book.

Ron sighed. Had it not been for Ginny, he probably would have stood staring at the door for a good while before going in, but his sister's presence silently urged him forward as he gently knocked.

"Come in."

Ron poked his head around the door and instantly felt himself blush as Hermione started from her perch in her "reading chair" as she had come to call the cushy armchair in her bedroom.

"Ron! Hi, I… I didn't expect… come in."

Ron entered the room all the way and closed the door behind him, leaving the pair of them standing awkwardly in Hermione's bedroom, barely looking at each other.

"Oh this is ridiculous!" Hermion said at last, "Can't we just talk about this?"

"Well," Ron said, swallowing hard and willing himself not to say 'um,' "That _is_ why I'm here."

"Oh. Right."

"Not sure where to start though."

"Me neither."

"Well that's a good start then."

The pair of them sighed as one and Ron flopped down at the edge of Hermione's bed, resigning himself to just start talking.

"Hermione, I'm not completely sure what happened earlier. I mean, I don't want you to think that, you know, that I didn't _want_ to or anything. It's just…"

"I know," Hermione interrupted, "I mean, I wanted to too, but... I don't know."

"Then why'd you say that… that we could?"

Hermione bit her lip and shrugged.

"And you never answered the question," Ron went on, forcing himself to keep going before he melted into a puddle of confusion and started stuttering, "Were you? Ready, I mean?

_Are_ you?"

Hermione shook her head slowly, feeling more overwhelmed than she had earlier that day. She felt like she didn't even know who she was anymore. She certainly hadn't been acting like herself and even though there was no doubt in her mind as to why, she still felt like she was being completely loopy. Hating herself for it, she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes as the familiar look of alarm took over Ron's features.

"Hey, it's ok. I didn't mean…"

Hermione shook her head, quickly wiping the tears off of her face.

"I'm sorry Ron. I just, I feel so ridiculous lately. I mean, I don't know what I was thinking earlier. I… Uhg! Don't you ever feel like we are completely backwards?! One minute we're discussing my_fertility_, and the next we're scared to have sex! What the bloody hell is that about!? I just… I wanted to _feel_Ron. I wanted to forget about everything except you and…" she stopped, taking a deep breath as she fought to keep her tears in check and Ron opened his mouth in surprise.

"Hermione," Ron said gently, taking her by the wrist and bringing her to a seat next to him, trying not to appear stunned by her choice of words. "I know. It's ok. A lot's happened. It's not like I think you're losing it or anything."

"I feel like I am though," Hermione said softly, not looking up.

"I reckon that's normal though, considering all that's happened to you lately, don't you?"

Hermione let out a small laugh. "Maybe, but… aren't I supposed to be, you know, the practical one?"

Ron snorted and rolled his eyes. "Trust me; you are. At least you didn't get yourself roaring drunk when we 'broke up.'"

Hermione's eyes widened as she looked up at Ron. "You didn't! Ronald Weasley!"

"Yes, yes, I know. Bloody stupid. Harry told me so. Not that I needed him to, mind you; the headache was enough to tell me so."

Hermione shook her head incredulously while Ron just shrugged.

"I think we're off the point," he said, smirking slightly.

"A bit. Think we're doing it on purpose?"

"Probably. But we still ought to resolve things a bit, don't you think? I mean, turning… you know…down from you is not something I ever imagined myself doing before, so if you don't mind, I think I'd like to feel better about why."

Hermione snickered slightly as Ron grinned, lightening the mood.

"I think Ron, that we're both a bit emotional at the moment. Don't cringe, everybody knows you're an emotional basket case."

"Hey!"

"But either way," Hermione pressed on, smiling, "I think we should maybe mutually agree that we're not ready to go quite that far. I mean, as much as we may want to…"

"Hermione," Ron said suddenly, "don't you ever, ever, _ever,_ tell Harry, or any other bloke, or any other _human_for that matter, what I'm about to say."

Hermione wrinkled her brow and waited, uncertain about the sudden seriousness in Ron's face.

"Ok…" she said slowly.

"I mean it Hermione; if you tell, I'll just deny I ever said it."

"Go on."

Ron took a deep breath and closed his eyes, wishing his ears weren't burning as usual.

"Hermione, the first time we… you know…"

"Have sex?"

"Yes, that. The first time we do that is going to be after I've undone your wedding gown."

Hermione blinked and Ron did his best to keep eye contact, though it was proving to be much more difficult than he anticipated as Hermione continued to stare at him in silence for what felt like days.

"Ron," she said at last, "I love you."

11111111111111111111

"Molly, will you please just sit down? We're fine. If we want more pie we are perfectly capable of getting it ourselves."

Molly sighed and reluctantly took a seat as Arthur smiled at her. He was well aware of how much Molly missed fussing over people, but there had to be some limits. She had hardly stopped moving since Ron had appeared first in the fireplace.

"Not that I'm not enjoying your company or anything dad, but what's all this about? Harry said you had big news?"

Arthur nodded, taking a deep sip of his coffee before turning his attention fully on the four… well they couldn't really be called kids anymore, but Arthur felt he would probably never grow out of calling them that.

"Scrimgeour stepped down," he said at last.

"What?" Hermione said at once, her pie forgotten as she sat up straight and attentively.

Ginny and Harry, who already knew this, sat silently and waited, knowing Ron and Hermione would have loads of questions in the next few minutes.

"What for?" Ron demanded, "I mean, not that I'm crazy about the guy, but at least he made efforts in the right directions…"

"And as barmy as the Ministry has become how do they expect things to get more orderly with no Minister?"

"Of course there's a Minister Hermione," Ginny interjected, "The Ministry hasn't gone quite _that_ nutters yet."

"If I may continue," Arthur pressed on, causing his son and Hermione to settle down significantly, "Scrimgeour stepped down for a number of reasons, one of them being that he is, to put it bluntly, not a man for leadership in times of peace. We enacted him as Minister after Fudge because he was equipped, or so we'd hoped, to lead during a war. It was rather unfortunate that so much of Fudge's corrupt influence had already settled. The Minister may have a lot of power, but not enough to sway the entire governing body."

"Which is a good thing, really," Hermione put in.

"Yes, but as I said, rather unfortunate in this case. Anyway, Scrimgeour announced himself that we are in a period of restoration, and that he is not the man for the job."

"Who's acting Minister then? If you say Umbridge I'm moving to Romania. End of story," Ron announced vehemently.

At this, Harry snorted and began to laugh into his hand as Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Honestly Ron," she sighed at her brother, "Just when I think I might start admit to being related to you…"

"We it's a fair assumption! She's in with all the right people."

"Not so much any more," Arthur said, doing his best to hide a smirk, "There's been a shift in power going on for months now. A lot of much more… shall we say suitable wizards and witches are in more effective positions of power now."

"You know," Harry muttered quietly to Ginny, "they really ought to require a class at Hogwarts on Wizarding Government. I could probably tell you more about how the muggles get their prime minister than I could how we get ours."

"I'll enlighten you sometime," Ginny replied, "But it's a damn boring subject."

"Ginny," Molly hissed, causing both Harry and Ginny to jump, "Language!"

Ginny just rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the conversation with her father.

"…in any case, while she's acting as Minister now, she has no desire to keep the job."

"Oh come on dad," Ginny huffed, getting impatient, "just get to the good part about who the top consideration is."

Ron and Hermione looked curiously at each other and then back at Mr. Weasley.

"Kingsley," he said smoothly.

Ron's jaw dropped and a wide smile made its way across Hermione's face.

"Mr. Weasley that's brilliant!"

"Kingsley! You might have mentioned that when you got home Harry!" Ron accused, smiling despite his annoyance.

"Um, as I recall, you had other things you wanted to discuss when I got home," Harry said pointedly, causing Ron's ears to instantly flame.

"Right." Ron said awkwardly, "Well that's bloody good news then isn't it! Kingsley will actually set some things straight at the Ministry, maybe even make it decent."

"It's not official yet," Arthur added, feeling he had to, "Kingsley is a bit controversial for a lot of people. He was the one primarily fighting for that piece of werewolf legislation that just passed. What Remus did during the war helped too, but it made Shackbolt quite unpopular in some circles."

"Not any that are really large enough to matter though," Molly added, speaking up for the first time since scolding Ginny. "Now if you lot are done discussing politics, who wants some more pie?"

* * *

**AN: Hello all! Look... it didn't take me months! Thanks so much to those of you who have reviewed; I really do appreciate it. I'd love to hear what you all think about this chapter. It was... the most interesting to write. **

**If I may ramble...Some people have asked about whether or not this fic was going to work in with the epilogue of DH, and the honest answer is that I'm really not sure. Obviously that wasn't the original intent since DH wasn't even out when I started writing, but it's sort of taken on a life of its own (stories tend to do that I think). I think my biggest hang ups would be Ron's career and Albus' middle name. How on earth would I justify Harry naming him Severus? Anyway, I've become somewhat addicted to 2nd generation fics (well written ones anyway) so I'm a bit tempted to go there... but lets be real, this thing is long enough already. At this rate my doctoral dissertation will be done by the time I finish this, and I'm only an undergrad student now! I'll shut up now. I just wanted to put it out there that chances are this wont end up matching the epilogue. Besides, we don't even know if Hermione is even going to get to HAVE any kids now do we? (well, I do, but I'm not saying...) K, ramble over. Thanks for reading, and please review.**


	24. Top of the Weasley Charts

Again, it's been awhile. I apologize, but I am a college junior working on a senior thesis. I also apologize for not having responded to reviews as promised. I will do my best to do so this time around. A million thanks to those of you who continue to read and to review despite my less than consistent updates. I'm so appreciative.

As for the chapter, it's a long, but still a bit transition-y. There are lots of little snippets that either tie up some issues or lead into issues not yet delved into. That being said, I hope you enjoy...

* * *

Chapter 23- Top of the Weasley Charts

_Tonks cursed and quickly grit her teeth to keep from crying out as she swiftly applied pressure to the gash she had just managed to give herself on a thorn bush. Of all the dangers of this wood, she had managed to clumsily injure herself on an innocent bush. Typical. _

_Pulling out her wand, she managed to heal the gash well enough for the time being. She really needed to find Lupin. It didn't usually take her this long but the pack of rogue werewolves were exceptionally antsy lately and didn't stay in one place long. Greyback was gearing up for something, but last she had heard Lupin still wasn't sure what it was. Half the time she wondered how on earth he was able to cope with these wizards, many of whom were more animal than man._

_But he had been making progress. In the last 6 months things seemed to be moving forward more rapidly than before. Last month there were 10 werewolves willing to take wolfsbane… ten werewolves willing to put a stop to Greyback's twisted philosophies. Ten was a lot. Tonks had been stunned to find out just how many werewolves actually lived in the wild. The wizarding world had truly managed to nearly exile them— labeling them as little more than savage animals. _

_Tonks could never quite grasp that. Lupin was the kindest, gentlest person she had ever known. To think of him as nothing more than a beast was shocking to her, and yet that was how the world treated him. _

_The sound of crunching leaves reached her ears and she immediately sought a place to hide. It wasn't until the soft, low whistle reached her ears that Tonks relaxed and allowed herself to be seen. She didn't even wait for the crunching leaves to get closer before reaching into her bag and pulling out large parcels of food and unwrapping them. _

_Lupin appeared moments later and fell on the food with barely a word to Tonks. The first few times Tonks had brought him food like this, he had made every effort to greet her first but Tonks was by no means stupid. Just watching the way he tore into whatever she brought him was hint enough that he was near starving. She told him quite firmly that he wasn't to speak to her until he had eaten, a request he had never argued with._

_As was his custom, Lupin wrapped Tonks in his arms the moment he finished swallowing and began to kiss anywhere he could reach._

"_I love you," Lupin said, burying his face into Tonks' neck. "And I miss you, and… Merlin…"_

_Tonks stayed silent and kissed him back, holding him nearly as tightly as he held her. She had learned early on that affection was not something one found among the werewolves. Even those that Lupin had managed to "convert" still had to act the part of the cold hearted beast. When she saw him, Lupin was usually starved of more than just food. He clung to her like she was the only real thing in the world and it had taken Tonks awhile to realize that in Lupin's world, she _was_. She was the only thing that reminded him of warmth and friendship and, in all honesty, of civility. Upon discovering all of this, Tonks had made it a point to force Lupin back to number 12 every so often— to not let him slip into the insanity of Greyback's world. _

"_I can't stay long," Lupin murmured. "I… things are getting tense. We found another group… 12 of them. Greyback merged them with us and… Tonks…" Lupin paused and drew Tonks tightly to him, "one of them is only 10 years old. She's… Merlin Tonks remind me I'm not like them!"_

_At this, Tonks pulled away and cupped Lupin's face in her hands, forcing his tired eyes to stare into hers._

"_Remus Lupin you stop that. You are a _man,_not a monster! Do you hear me?"_

_Lupin drew a shaky breath and nodded. "I know," he said softly, bringing his forehead down to rest on Tonks', "I just… need to hear you say it sometimes."_

"_I know," she replied gently, running her fingers through the parts of Remus' hair that weren't matted. _

_They stayed like that for a moment, both imagining they were somewhere else, until at last Tonks broke the silence._

"_How many do you need?"_

"_Twenty," Remus said, smiling at this, "Doubled in one month," his expression became serious. "Soon, I think."_

_Tonks looked up in surprise from where she had been pulling vials of wolfsbane from her bag. "Really? You'll have enough to… to totally overthrow him?"_

_Lupin nodded. "He and his ring leaders are involving us in one of Voldemort's… campaigns. That attack on St. Mungo's that the Order already knows about. If things go according to plan, we'll be able to revolt and join the Order Members during the fight."_

_Tonks just starred at him in wonder. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry as she took in Lupin's pale and weak form. He was the strongest man she knew. If it were her, there was no way she'd have coped. _

"_Tonks?"_

_But Tonks didn't reply in words and instead brought Lupin's lips down to meet hers. Remus returned the kiss with equal fervor, both of them aware as usual that it could easily be their last. _

"_Remus," Tonks gasped, breaking their kiss, her eyes revealing the fears that she so often hid. "I… Sometimes I just don't think I can…I mean this war is…"_

"_Shh. I know Tonks. But we have to. It's what's right."_

111111111111111111111111

Harry pressed his forehead into the cool tile and sighed deeply as the hot water crashed down onto his shoulders. He knew he should hurry up. He knew from experience that the rest of the team took to hassling anyone who took too long in the showers—he'd even taken part in the pranking on occasion. He was bound to end up completely starkers in the center of the locker room in a matter of minutes, but he just couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.

While things had vastly improved with regards to Harry's hermit tendencies in the last several months, there were still times where the last thing he wanted to do was attend a party. It was nothing personal against Fred, or anyone else for that matter. He just felt so drained lately and being someone people wanted to actually be around just felt like far too much work. He was having trouble articulating this to Ginny, the social butterfly that she was. He was always amazed at how well she kept in contact with people. She was one of the most unorganized people on the planet and yet she knew the birthdays of every Gryffindor in her year as well as the Order and DAs'. It was actually quite impressive.

The real issue lately however, was the nightmares. Somewhere along the line, they had morphed from the typical, horrifying scenes from the war and into his childhood before Hogwarts. It was an entirely different type of horrifying and he wasn't sure what to make of it. He was used to dealing with the nightmares from the war. They left him angry, sometimes panicky, sometimes a bit ill, but he had learned to cope. They all had.

But the new nightmares weren't the same. They left him cold, empty, and confused. More than once he'd woken up crying and not remembering why. They stuck to his insides for hours after he woke up, unlike the nightmares of the war that he could shake off by late morning with a well practiced ease.

"Best get a move on Potter! Don't want Shelton to figure out you've been in there for more than 10 minutes!"

Harry sighed and forced himself to turn the water off, reaching up to the top of the shower's ledge with his free hand to retrieve his glasses.

"Thanks Jacob," Harry called from behind the shower curtain. "Lost track of the time."

He trudged out of the shower room and towards his locker, determined not to seem put out. Oliver always tended to notice and he wasn't in the mood to discuss it. Besides, he knew Oliver was eagerly anticipating Fred's stag night like most of the male population that had ever met Fred. He wasn't up to explaining why he didn't feel like going to what was sure to be a fantastic party.

"Nice job today Potter."

Harry shrugged and appeared from behind his locker door to find Oliver on the bench next to him.

"I hate chasing."

Oliver snorted and rolled his eyes at Harry, who pretended to ignore him as he rummaged around for his clean shirt.

"You just hate that it's not your element," Oliver corrected, earning a glare from Harry as he appeared from inside his shirt.

"Well whatever. I don't like it."

Wood just laughed and clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder as the younger athlete took a seat.

"You'll be fine on Sunday. I promise you. Besides, you'll have plenty of things to distract you this weekend. Tomorrow night is going to be bloody fantastic."

Harry sighed and pulled his glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned back against the lockers.

"Umm, or not? Don't tell me you're not looking forward to tomorrow night!" Oliver exclaimed, looking at Harry with an appalled expression on his face. "The twins are already infamous for their parties, and this one is in _Fred's honor_!"

Harry couldn't help but smile slightly. It was true, regardless of how much he didn't want to go, it was bound to be one hell of a party. He expected nothing less from the twins. Be that as it may, he didn't want to be there.

"Please don't start Wood. I'm not in the mood."

Oliver just shook his head, knowing by now when he could and couldn't push an issue with Harry.

"Oh don't give me that look Oliver. I'm fine—just my typical moody self."

"Hey mate, as long as _you_know you're a right piece of work…"

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes as Oliver grinned at him, ducking as Harry moved to swat the back of his head.

"See you tomorrow Wood."

"See you."

1111111111111111111111111111

"So," Harry announced, flopping down onto the couch next to Ginny, "Who votes we all sleep for a month once this week is over?"

Ron groaned and chucked his ink bottle half heartedly at Harry before shoving aside the rather impressive stack of parchment in front of him with a look of disgust. He had been attempting to organize his notes so that he could begin studying properly, but considering it wasn't exactly something he'd done before, it was a bit overwhelming.

"I'm going to fail out of the Healer program," he said dryly. "There's just no way I'll be able to get all this information crammed into my tiny little brain by Tuesday."

Hermione swatted him lightly across the head and frowned at him, her look clearly giving him the 'don't doubt yourself' speech.

"Is it pathetic that I'm more terrified of Fred's stag night tomorrow than I am of the game on Sunday?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Ron replied, pulling himself off of the floor to squash into the armchair with Hermione, "But we won't tell anyone."

Ginny snickered, earning a sharp poke in the ribs from her boyfriend. "You're really more nervous about my brother's bachelor party than you are of your fist ever _international_quidditch match? What on earth is the matter with you?"

Harry just muttered something darkly under his breath and Ginny could have sworn he was cursing the evils of alcohol.

"Chances are they're going to try to get me smashed as well mate," Ron said, trying (and failing) to hide his grin, "But considering I have this outrageous monster of an exam next week, I'll need to be sober enough to study. If I'm going to fail, I'm at least going to do it of my own accord."

"Well considering you can hold alcohol a darn sight better than I can that won't be much of a problem, will it?" Harry replied bitterly.

"You know," Ginny mused, "For the two men primarily responsible for the defeat of Voldemort you two sure aren't very confident are you?"

"Oh shut up Gin. Like we've never heard _that_ before." Ron craned his neck to look pointedly at Hermione who just rolled her eyes at him.

"You two make it sound like Fred and George are nothing more than a couple of drunks. They can't be quite that bad. Besides, if they get everyone drunk, who will be able to give them all the attention? I don't think they could cope if they weren't at the center of it all."

"Let's just change the subject," Ginny announced, "I've been meaning to ask you for ages Hermione—what is it you do exactly? At the school I mean."

"Good question," Ron agreed, "You've been a bit secretive about it for the past week or so."

Hermione smiled, almost shyly, as a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.

"Do you want to see?" she asked, timidly.

"See what?" Harry asked, giving her a rather blank stare along with Ginny and Ron.

"And don't be so bashful about it," Ginny added, "It's not like we don't know your brilliant."

Hermione's blush deepened as she gave Ron a light shove, indicating for him to move so that she could get out of the chair.

"This is really a bit of a side project," she began, "Mostly the portraits lecture like they do for your Healer program Ron. I've only just started to get into more of the practical bits and all of that; this was mostly just for fun. I quite like transfiguration and so…"

"Would you just show us already?" Harry laughed, amused by how excited and anxious Hermione suddenly looked. The all too familiar pang of guilt hit him once again as he realized just how much Hermione had given up by not completing her education.

"Alright, here goes… oh, wait a minute. You might want to move the table."

The two red heads and Harry gave her a funny look but Ron got up and shoved the coffee table over all the same. Hermione closed her eyes and her face took on a look of intense concentration. Ginny let out a gasp as Ron and Harry stared in open-mouthed shock as Hermione began to morph before their eyes. In a matter of seconds, a chestnut mare stood where Hermione had been, pawing at the ground and looking, if it were at all possible for a horse to do so, quite pleased with itself.

"Bloody hell! She's an animagus!" Ron announced needlessly.

"She's a horse," Ginny stated, her brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought Hermione's patronus was an otter. Aren't they supposed to be the same?"

"Usually," Harry nodded, studying the horse-Hermione with a wrinkled nose. His eyes suddenly grew wide as he began to laugh. "But _Ron's_ is a horse!"

Ginny, who had never seen Ron's patronus before, turned to her brother who was still looking at the mare in shock. "Is it really?"

Ron tore his eyes from Hermione and looked at Ginny for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah, here. _Expecto Patronum!_"

Ginny's eyes widened again, impressed despite herself, as Ron's silvery horse-in-armor erupted from the tip of his wand.

"Nice one," she commented as the silvery beast cantered once around the room before disintegrating into a silver mist.

"I've always thought so."

Ginny jumped and turned to find Hermione, human as ever, grinning behind her.

"Blimey," Ron breathed, "You're bloody brilliant Hermione, you know that?"

Hermione just shrugged. "The portraits were a bit confused by it being a horse at first too. It was actually Dumbledore who asked what Ron's patronus was."

"Yeah, but your patronus is still an otter, isn't it?" Harry asked, obviously still confused.

Hermione nodded. "Apparently I'm a bit too stubborn and independent to_ change_ my patronus. Something like that anyway. Hidaltha turned out to be quite the expert on the subject. My animagus form though… well it just sort of happened. I didn't have an original one to change, so it just started out as a horse."

"Hidaltha?" Harry asked.

"One of the portraits. One of the saner ones actually. You'd be surprised at how absolutely mad some of them are."

"Probably not," Ron muttered, "I always said Dumbledore was a right nutter, so it's no real shock that the other headmasters were a bit loopy… all that intelligence must send them round the bend or something. You best be careful 'Mione."

"So what determines your patronus then?" Ginny asked, ignoring Ron's comment. "Mine's a horse as well, but as far as I know no one else in the family has it. Come to think of it, I don't even know what everyone's even is."

"Well dad's is a weasel, which is just too ridiculously ironic if you ask me, but there you go. Bill's is an eagle I think, and I've no idea what Charlie's is. D'you reckon it's a dragon? Or would that just be too logical?"

Hermione burst out laughing as she took her seat back on the armchair with Ron.

"Honestly. You guys can discuss it all you want but wizards have been trying to figure out why a patronus takes the form it does for decades. All they've been able to figure is that they can change, and that they are often tied to something personal within the person. It's not always obvious, from what Professor Hidaltha said anyway. Harry's is a no brainer— the stag was his father's, and yours, Ron, isn't just a horse but a horse-_in-armor_, like in chess."

"Well then how do you explain mine?" Ginny asked, still slightly perplexed. She hadn't realized that the patronus was such a deep phenomenon— though they were quite mysterious, now she came to think about it.

Hermione just shrugged in response. "I still haven't figured out why mine is an otter. But I like it."

"Right," Harry announced, forcing himself to get up from the couch with much effort, "It's late. And tomorrow may be Friday and all, but I'm still going to be running up and down a pitch all morning and then flying formations all afternoon so…"

"Oh yes, your job is just terrible," Ron laughed.

Harry laughed as well, rolling his eyes. "Yeah ok, but still. I need to sleep. You coming?"

Reluctantly, Ron untangled himself from the armchair and muttered something about git brothers planning weddings on weekends right before exams.

"See you two for breakfast then?" Hermione asked.

Ron and Harry nodded before saying their goodnights and trudging out of the girls' flat. It wasn't until they reached the elevator that Harry spoke, trying his best to sound casual—a tactic he usually failed miserably at.

"Have you been sleeping alright lately?"

Ron looked up from the elevator button and rose an eyebrow at Harry, not missing the forced casualness at all.

"Why?"

Harry shrugged and turned his attention to the now opened doors of the elevator. "Just wondered."

The two friends entered the elevator silently and Ron jammed the button for their floor. It wasn't until the doors opened again that Ron spoke.

"Not usually."

It took Harry a moment to realize what Ron meant and he nodded slowly.

"So… you don't… the nightmares…"

"Still get 'em. Not as bad as… as you know… right after the war and all. And nothing is as bad as when I was under that damned curse. But…"

"But enough to wake you up."

Ron nodded and seemed to consider something before adding, "Enough to silence my room when I go to bed."

Harry nodded, looking somewhat relieved.

"You too then?" Ron asked, turning to look at Harry as they entered their flat.

Harry nodded slowly. "Just… wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one, you know?"

"Yeah Harry, I know."

1111111111111111111111

Ginny let out a low whistle as she took in the outrageous pile of ribbons on the dinning table. It was in this moment that Ginny decided that she most certainly wanted a small wedding.

"Well girls," Molly's voice entered, snapping Ginny out of her stunned reverie, "Staring at them isn't going to get them tied now is it?"

Ginny turned to look at Hermione who was looking at the mound of turquoise and brown ribbons with the same stunned expression as Ginny.

"Let me get this straight," Hermione said at last, pulling out a chair next to Angelina and taking a seat, "While George is throwing Fred the party of the century, we're stuck here tying ribbons on wedding favors?"

Angelina snorted and reluctantly nodded. "I'm afraid so. It's all that's left to do before tomorrow though. Besides, it's not like either of those two would be any help with this. I really appreciate you guys volunteering."

"Don't mention it," Ginny replied from the other side of the table. "I fully expect Hermione to find a way to charm these things into tying themselves anyway."

Hermione just rolled her eyes and sheepishly drew her wand.

"Told you," Ginny said with a smirk, as Hermione flicked her wand towards the ribbons.

"Girls," Molly's voice called from somewhere in the house (she hadn't stood still in the last twelve hours. Though the wedding wasn't going to be in the back garden as Bill's had, family members would still be staying at the burrow and Molly hadn't stopped cleaning or cooking for nearly a week). "Katie and Alicia are here!"

Hermione instantly looked up and met Ginny's eyes. Neither had seen Katie since her infamous blow up at the quidditch match last week.

"Just don't say anything," Angelina muttered, noticing the look Hermione and Ginny were exchanging.

Ginny simply pressed her lips together as Hermione turned her attention back to the ribbons.

"Hey Angie!" Angelina burst into laughter as Alicia bounded into the kitchen, followed by Katie, and threw her arms around her former captain's neck. "I cannot even believe you're getting married tomorrow. I mean, I feel like it's _my_ wedding or something, I'm so excited!"

Katie rolled her eyes good naturedly and sat down next to Ginny, nudging her and giving her a look clearly stating that Alicia was completely mental.

"Well I'm afraid it's _my_ wedding Alicia, and until you and Oliver decide to actually call whatever it is you're doing 'dating' there really isn't much else I can do for you."

Alicia put her hands on her hips indignantly, but couldn't keep the smirk of amusement off of her face.

"And what exactly, do you mean by 'whatever it is we're doing'? We just go on dates sometimes. Not all of us have to be so serious you know."

"Right," Angelina laughed, "because the woman about to marry Fred Weasley must be entirely serious. We probably just sit around and do mundane, domestic things all the time."

"Uhg," Ginny interrupted, "No offence Angelina, but I really have no desire to know what you and Fred do, thank you very much."

Angelina just smiled as Alicia huffed and began to tie ribbons.

"All I meant was," she continued her defense, "is that not every relationship has to be one step away from a wedding. I'm only 22 for heaven's sake."

"Are we talking about Oliver Wood?" Ginny asked, "I didn't realize you two were even an item."

"Well that's just it. We aren't. We're not like exclusive or anything. Besides, with his quidditch schedule it's not like he has much time for things like a real relationship anyway."

Ginny arched an eyebrow and Hermione's eyes slid over to look at Alicia, though she kept her head perfectly still.

"Well Harry manages just fine," Ginny said slowly.

"Oh! Are you two together then? I'd heard rumors back when you two were at Hogwarts but—" Katie trailed off at Ginny's nod and wide smile (she couldn't help it).

"You know Oliver," Alicia went on, "He's obsessed. I don't know that a girl will ever be more interesting to him than quidditch."

"Go for a Weasley man then," Angelina said with a smirk, "I hear they're a good lot."

Ginny began to laugh and Hermione blushed as Alicia pretended to consider this for a moment, laughing along with her friends.

"Yes, I've heard they're quite decent. Bit too decent really as they're all pretty much taken!"

"Not all of them," Hermione corrected.

"Well there's George," Katie said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice which her friends graciously chose to ignore.

"And… oh what's his name Ginny? The one who works with the dragons?" Alicia said, wrinkling her nose in thought.

"Charlie."

"And Percy," Hermione finished.

"What about Ron?"

Angelina and Ginny burst into laughter as Katie leaned forward and thwacked the back of Alicia's head. Hermione, meanwhile, became fascinated with the ribbons she was currently tying. She seemed to have tied a lot more than the other girls.

"Ow! What's so funny?" Alicia demanded.

"Ron's with Hermione you dolt. Come on now. Keep up," Angelina informed her.

"Oh? Well how am I supposed to know that! I only just got back from Scotland last week!"

"Oh for heaven's sake can we just change the subject? It's the night before my wedding, my fiancé is out having a grand 'ol time, and I just want to get these bloody ribbons done so I can go to bed! Goodness knows Fred's not going to be much for sleep tomorrow night."

"And why is that I wonder?"

The girls jumped and spun in their chairs to find Fred stepping out of the fireplace with a satisfied smirk on his face. Angelina just gaped at him as Ginny did her best not to look disgusted by the comment.

"Fred! What… I mean why are you… what's going on?"

Fred just smiled widely and made his way towards Angelina. He opened his mouth but shut it when he realized that he was surrounded by a room full of girls other than his fiancé. Ginny couldn't help but marvel as Fred's ears ever so slightly began to tinge with red, only just enough to notice. She didn't know anyone else who could make Fred feel embarrassed. It was almost unnatural, but somehow just… right.

"I wanted to see you," he said simply.

Angelina just stared at him in amusement and shook her head.

"You're mental. Your brother is throwing you what has to be a bloody_fantastic_ party, and you're here."

"Well I won't tell him if you won't," Fred replied, only looking at Angelina now, his ears no longer burning as he seemed to have forgotten the presence of the other girls.

"You mean he doesn't know?"

Fred just shrugged. "I'll be back before he realizes I'm gone. It _is_ one hell of a party. Funny that though; as great as it is, and trust me, it's top of the Weasley charts, I still couldn't help but feel that the only person I truly wanted to be around on the eve of my wedding… is you."

Now Ginny was positive that Fred had forgotten their presence. He never would have said any of that out loud if he hadn't.

"Take a fly with me," Fred said, his eyes dancing cheekily, "We'll be back before you know it and I'll get back to the party before anyone realizes I'm missing."

Angelina tore her gaze from Fred's and took in the pile of ribbons still littering the table. Katie sighed and waved a hand at her friend.

"Oh for goodness sakes GO! We'll take care of it. And don't argue."

Angelina looked back at Fred, whose ears had once again gone ever so slightly red as he realized that there were other people in the room, and smiled. He lifted her from her chair and without another word to the rest of the girls, carried Angelina towards the door. He did however, throw them all a mischievous wink just before the door closed behind him.

"Wow," Alicia said at last, "Maybe I _will_ go for a Weasley man." Ginny just rolled her eyes as Hermione snorted none too discreetly. "Seriously," she persisted, "You would think he'd rather be at that party."

"Nah." Katie said, a wistful look on her face. "The party is more for George anyway."

No one bothered to respond to that. They weren't quite sure how to.

"I have to admit," Ginny murmured at last, "you certainly have them pegged better than most."

111111111111111111111

Saturday dawned far too early as far as Ginny was concerned. Hermione had actually had to come and get her out of bed. The pair of them hadn't left the burrow until well after midnight and with the wedding scheduled for the afternoon there was little time for a lie in.

Ginny knocked softly on the door to Harry's room, hoping that he wouldn't need the hangover potion she had brought up with her. Hermione was doing the same across the hall. Neither girl had bothered to start breakfast at their own flat, knowing full well they would have to drag their respective boyfriends from their beds.

"Harry?" Ginny said softly, peering into Harry's dim bedroom. "Time to wake up. We've got exactly two hours before we have to get to the burrow. Mum will do her nut if we're late."

The tangle of blanket and sheets groaned and wriggled slightly and Ginny couldn't help but smile. She came and sat down gingerly on the mattress as a hand appeared and began groping at the nightstand. Dutifully, Ginny placed Harry's glasses in his searching fingers and let out a small giggle as Harry's mass of black hair finally emerged.

"Morning!" she said cheerfully as Harry blinked at her a few times from behind his glasses.

"Eh?"

"I said 'Morning!' Do you need this?" she held up the flask of potion.

Harry simply blinked a few more times before shaking his head. Relieved, Ginny abandoned the flask on the nightstand and waited for Harry to come more to his senses.

"Is it really time to get up already?" he asked at last, forming his first complete sentence of the morning.

Ginny nodded sympathetically as Harry snaked his arm out from the covers and curled it around Ginny's waist.

"I don't want to," he said flatly, and with a gentle tug, pulled Ginny closer to him.

For a brief moment, Ginny thought of protesting, but instead (and much to Harry's glee) slid under the covers and curled up next to him. Smiling contentedly, Harry buried his face in Ginny's neck and closed his eyes once more, fully intending to fall promptly back to sleep.

"You can't go back to sleep," Ginny told him, reading his mind.

Harry's only response was to nuzzle himself deeper into her neck and reach his other arm around to hold onto her more firmly.

"Harry," Ginny warned, her heart not really in it, "I mean it. We can't be late, and you and Ron take forever to get all dressed up."

Harry lifted his head and arched an eyebrow at Ginny who giggled at his indignant expression.

"You know it's true," she teased, cheekily wrapping her arms around Harry's shoulders, bringing him closer to her.

"Well I'm quite sorry if not all of us can be as naturally stunning as you are."

Ginny blinked in surprise, not used to the seriousness in Harry's words. The pair of them were often flirtatious, but it was usually in teasing tones and implied from less direct words. It caught her off guard—made her flush.

"I think I like waking you up in the morning Mr. Potter," Ginny replied softly, slowly inching closer to Harry, her eyes fluttering closed.

"SODDING BLEEDING HELL!! SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, _SHIT_!"

In a flash, Harry and Ginny were on their feet, the moment between them forgotten as they scrambled for the door.

"Ron?!"

"What's happened?!"

Harry and Ginny froze in the doorway of Ron's room, stunned into speechlessness as they took in the scene before them. Hermione was flat on her back on Ron's floor, obviously unconscious, as a very ruffled looking Ron hovered over her, gently examining her head and taking her pulse.

Helplessly, he looked up at Harry and Ginny who were still standing with their mouths open and looking at Ron for answers.

"She startled me! I know I'm not the easiest to wake up, but when I'm dreaming it's… well it's a bit trickier!"

Comprehension dawned on Harry as at last he seemed able to move and entered the room, Ginny trailing behind him.

"What did you do?" Ginny asked quietly.

Ron grit his teeth and gently lifted Hermione's head onto his lap.

"I stunned her," he said reluctantly, obviously infuriated with himself. "It's just… you know…"

"Instinctual," Harry finished for him, nodding in understanding. "I imagine you hit her pretty good?"

Ron just gave Harry a look. Stunning had been Ron's primary defensive spell while horcrux hunting. Harry preferred disarming, and Hermione often opted for binding, but Ron had developed a rather powerful (and alarmingly accurate) stunner.

"Can you wake her?"

"Course I can," Ron said, still irritated, "but could you start on a headache potion Gin? Or better yet," he paused and _accio-ed_ a book towards them. "The Maglockskie potion. It's fairly simple." Ginny didn't bother to marvel at Ron quoting a text book and instead left the room to start brewing the potion.

Harry let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "Well it's not like it's the first time you've hit her with a stunner."

Ron just rolled his eyes and pointed his wand towards Hermione, muttering "_enervate_."

Her eyes fluttered open and, after taking a few moments to get her bearings, winced up at Ron.

"Heh… um, good morning?" Ron tried, forcing out a grimace of a smile.

Hermione sighed and let her eyes close again, waiting for her head to pound less before attempting to move.

"You two had better not make us late," she said, causing both Ron and Harry's jaws to drop in indignation, though they wisely kept silent.

Two hours and ten minutes later found the foursome scrambling around their flats in an effort to find last minute items such as lipstick ("Honestly Hermione, is it really that big of a deal if it's peach instead of burgundy?... ok! Sorry I asked!"), bow ties ("I had it for the last Ministry thingy Ginny! I swear I haven't done anything with it since!"), and dress shoes (Ron you idiot, that one is mine. How'd you manage to put on two left shoes?!").

"Are we ready now?" Ginny asked no one in particular as the friends assembled themselves in the sitting room of Ron and Harry's flat.

"We have to be," Ron replied, "I'm sure mum's already frantic."

"She is." The group jumped slightly and spun around to see Charlie's head floating in the fireplace, green flames licking at his hair.

"Oh for goodness sakes," Ginny huffed, "We're _coming_!"

"I know Gin," Charlie said sympathetically. "But you know mum. She thinks we're about to disgrace ourselves by being late to our own brother's wedding."

"Charlie, it's _Fred_! It'll be a wonder if _he's_ even there on time!"

"Don't shoot the messenger Ron. Just get on over here."

With a faint pop, Charlie's head disappeared while Ginny muttered mutinously that they ought to wait a little longer now just on principle.

While the trio and Ginny were scrambling around to be ready on time, Fred and George were having their own pre-wedding trauma. Try as they might to maintain the care-free air expected of a Weasley twin, it was becoming increasingly more difficult in the midst of the dramatic shift that was taking place in a mere hour or so. The war had left neither twin unscathed, and the shadow of the past two years was only just beginning to lift in their lives as much as anyone else's. It was a secret everyone pretended not to notice for the sake of Fred and Georges' egos.

"George! Seriously, I can't find it! You're sure I didn't already give it to you?"

George sighed and ceased his fruitless attempts at getting his tie to cooperate. Neither of them were the panicky sort, or at least they never had been before the war. Since the fire and Angelina's accident though, Fred had sort of developed the habit, try as he might to control himself. George was slightly suspicious about it, but for the most part he simply did his best to keep Fred thinking rationally and not make a big issue out of it.

"You didn't give them to me," George called from his room. "Try your wand."

George couldn't help but smile slightly as Fred cursed mildly at himself before muttering "_Accio_-wedding band."

"Any luck?" George asked, poking his head into the modest sitting room where Fred stood, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Yep, and now I'm giving it to you; so if anything happens to it from here on out, it's entirely your fault."

George rolled his eyes and slid the box safely into the inner pocket of his dress robes. Fred watched him for a moment, neither of them speaking. They rarely needed words.

"George," Fred said at last, "Are you ready for this?"

George laughed and threw his arms up. "Fred… are _you_?"

Fred cracked a smile and shook his head. His brother dutifully clapped a hand on his shoulder, still laughing slightly. Neither of them were particularly ready. It was the wrong word. They both knew it, and that was enough.

"C'mon Gred, you have a wedding to get to."

"Right you are Feorge, right you are."

111111111111111111111111111111

"Where did they find this place?" Harry asked, settling into his seat and slinging his arm around the back of Ginny's chair.

"No idea," she replied, craning her neck to look back at the guests still filing to their seats before the ceremony. "This is so weird."

Harry arched an eyebrow and Ginny just shrugged. "I don't know; it's Fred! I mean, he's getting _married_. It's just… it's different when it's your brother I guess. Bill is so much older so it wasn't as… surreal I guess."

Harry wisely just nodded and Hermione discreetly rolled her eyes at him, smirking. The three of them were seated along with the rest of the Weasleys not taking part in the ceremony, right on the front row. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had just been escorted in and Molly was already dabbing her eyes, sniffling.

"She'll be bawling by the end," Ginny whispered to Harry, who couldn't help but agree.

The crowd grew quiet as Fred, followed by a line of redheads and Lee Jordan, entered the room to await Angelina. Music filled the orchard (Harry guessed it was done magically because he couldn't for the life of him find any musicians) and the bridesmaids began to make their walks down the aisle.

Harry sat politely, quietly watching as the girls strolled by. He glanced up at Ron who was poised dutifully between Percy and Lee, an odd sort of smirk on his face. Something in Harry stirred and he suddenly understood what Ginny meant by surreal, though perhaps not in the same way she was referring to. There were moments, not terribly often, but there were moments where _everything_ felt surreal—like it was all just too good to be allowed. A warm sensation ran through his veins and a content bubble seemed to fill his chest. For the first time, he realized that he had truly felt like any of them would ever make it to a day like this one. For so long it had been fear and panic, pain and avoiding pain.

Yet… here they were.

The ridiculous number of guests stood as Angelina appeared at the back of the aisle. She was perched elegantly on her broomstick, which had been decorated for the occasion, with her father standing at her side. Hermione and Ginny sighed almost against their wills as Angelina flew forward with her dad. She had opted for the broom over her wheelchair mostly for the sake of showing off her gown, which hung down from the broom and swept beautifully across the silk aisle runner.

Hermione nudged Ginny gently and nodded towards Fred. She looked up and smiled as he stared, looking utterly dumbfounded, as Angelina and her father made their way toward him. Ginny was almost certain that Fred didn't even realize Mr. Johnson was there at all, never mind the rest of them.

In that moment, no one seemed to mind that their nightmares awaited them when they got home, that the sting that accompanied the reminder that particular loved ones were not with them didn't seem to sear so harshly, that their scars were still plainly displayed, or that the shadows from two years ago still lurked behind their eyes. They weren't gone. In the morning, they would be faced anew. But for now, even if it was only for a moment, all was well.

* * *

Please review! Thanks :-) 


	25. Pull Some Strings

Hello all. Yes, this is actually an update. Obviously, it's been more than awhile since the last one so if you're still reading this I'm quite impressed and I thank you much! I'm sorry it's been so long and that I haven't responded to reviews in ages and ages. I will do my best to do so this time around. I will do my best with updates, but as I'm sure you've noticed... I can't promise anything lol. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 24- Pull Some Strings

_"Great job today guys! I'll see you tomorrow, same time. Hufflepuff doesn't stand a chance on Saturday."_

_The members of Gryffindor's quiditch team filed out of the locker room in high spirits, nodding their thanks to Ginny as they headed back across the grounds. _

_As soon as they were out of sight, the youngest Weasley let out a long sigh and returned to her locker, the smile melting off of her face and the brightness in her eyes dimming as she allowed herself to look how she actually felt: exhausted. _

_Things were more than dim at Hogwarts. The classes were half the size they should have been, no one went outside unless it was to practice or head to the greenhouses, and a somber mood seemed to have settled even over the great hall. Defense against the dark arts classes were so tense that Ginny was convinced someone was going to accidentally get hexed any day now. Being a morale booster was getting harder and harder to do._

_Clenching her broom tightly in one hand, Ginny slammed her locker shut with a satisfying clang. _

_"Wow, tense Gin?"_

_Without thinking, Ginny spun around and quickly flicked her wrist._

_"_Expelliarmus!_"_

_Dean's eyes widened as his wand flew from his pocket and landed neatly into Ginny's palm._

_"Dean! Merlin's pants Dean—don't scare me like that!"_

_Dean just blinked for a moment and furrowed his brow at the now trembling Ginny as she fumbled to return his wand._

_"You're pretty amazing at that you know," he said, lamely attempting to cover the awkward tension that had suddenly risen. Catching Ginny in a moment of frustration was not a common occurrence. She was nearly always laughing and trying to get everyone else to laugh. No one ever said it directly, but all of Gryffindor (and other houses as well) gravitated toward the last remaining Weasley at Hogwarts._

_Ginny grit her teeth and shrugged as she handed Dean his wand._

_"Yeah, well, it was kinda Harry's specialty," she mumbled._

_The silence that settled was less than comfortable. The trio's disappearance from Hogwarts had been all anyone talked about for a few weeks. It was the latest scandal as far as everyone else was concerned. It had driven Ginny nuts. She may not have been "allowed" to take part in Order meetings, but she still managed to keep herself far more informed than you average student. That, coupled with the fact that no one even knew if her dearest friend, brother, and ex-boyfriend were even alive, let alone where they were, made the idea of their disappearance being gossip material nearly unbearable._

_But it wasn't long before the first raid happened. It left the wizarding world in shock. Hundreds had been killed—mostly families of muggle-borns. No one said a word about the trio's disappearance after that. The reality of what was happening had sunk in._

_Ginny couldn't ever decide if it was worse to make sport of their absence or to not talk about them at all. _

_"You miss them."_

_Ginny looked up from where she had been tying her sneakers in a last ditch effort to alleviate the awkwardness. It hadn't been a question._

_"I don't blame you Gin. Do you even know where they are?"_

_Again all Ginny could do was blink for a moment. No one had ever directly asked her. People had fished, but no one had ever just come out and asked her._

_"No," she said quietly, "They couldn't tell anyone—less risky."_

_Dean nodded and ran a hand through his hair. Ginny winced internally at how his posture unintentionally mimed Harry's. It always had in certain ways and was probably why Ginny had initially been attracted to Dean, though she never would have admitted it. _

_"Don't let it eat you up Ginny. I mean, I know we… well I mean we didn't… I did date you. I know you better than a lot of the others. You don't have to shoulder everything on your own, ya know?"_

_"I know," Ginny replied automatically. "I'm alright Dean. It's just… it's harder some days than others."_

_Dean nodded and let out a long sigh as Ginny continued to stare blankly. Evidently, Dean hadn't sought her out just for a chat._

_"You really like him, don't you."_

_Ginny couldn't help it, her mouth fell open of its own accord and she found herself completely without words. Any hope she had of evading the question, or pretending she had no idea who Dean meant was lost. _

_"It's ok Gin. I… I hope he comes back to you."_

_Dean smiled good naturedly, expressing more maturity than Ginny had ever seen in him, and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his robe. _

_"I'll see you back in the common room."_

_Ginny nodded mutely as Dean turned and left the locker room. As soon as he was out of sight Ginny sat down hard onto the bench. She hugged her arms tightly around herself, and took a deep breath as she attempted to pull herself together. Gritting her teeth and fiercely wiping away the stray tears that had managed to make their way down her face, Ginny stood up and headed for the door. There was no time for tears. If she couldn't be out there with them, she was going to do everything in her power to make sure there was a home for them to come back to._

111111111111111111111

George let out a long sigh and rolled his eyes at himself. He had once again apparated back to his old place at Diagon Alley. Granted, it had only been one day since the wedding, but he had essentially moved out a week prior to that.

Try as he might to hide it, George was at a bit of a loss. He had spent the afternoon at Puddlemere's match with his sister, Ron, and Hermione. It was actually quite brilliant, especially when Harry took a bludger to the face and _still_ managed to score, but when the game was over, George was painfully unpaired. Being the 5th wheel to his siblings was odd enough, and to not have Fred there to tease them about their significant others was even weirder. The four of them had invited him back to the flat with them but he had declined, making up something about plans with Lee, who was actually on a date tonight and not at all available.

And then there was Katie. What in the name of Merlin was he going to do about her? Her sudden profession of love had been more than a shock to him and he'd been carefully avoiding her ever since. It had been awkward at the wedding since, under normal circumstances, he would have danced with her or tripped the other dancers for her amusement. Instead he spent most of the wedding trying to be thrilled when he felt like his soul was being ripped in half, and trying to avoid one of the few people he would have been willing to let his guard down in front of. He had never really considered Katie outside of the realm of friendship. He saw her very much the same as he saw Ginny, but her friendship was important to him and he had never been in a position like this one before. Any other girl and he would have just brushed her off.

Clenching his hand into a fist George let out a growl of frustration and kicked at the wall.

"Would you mind not damaging the property?"

George spun around, suppressing the urge to blush (a skill he and his twin had been able to develop rather well, unlike the rest of their family).

"Verity? What are you doing here?"

Verity smiled slightly and shook her head at her boss.

"Well, you're overseeing the Hogsmeade shop, and since Fred is on his honeymoon, the two of you left me with the closing duties over here. Or has that conversation slipped your mind?"

"Oh, yeah, that's right. I forgot."

Verity had been at the shop with them almost since the beginning. She was often put in charge of things in the twins' absence and had also been given the choice of which shop she wanted to work at, her seniority trumping other employee requests. She had chosen the Hogsmeade shop, which George had found unexplainably exciting.

"Uh, are you ok?"

George blinked and tried to collect himself as Verity watched him.

"Yeah of course! I… uh… no. Actually, I'm not really," and to his complete horror, George began to laugh. He couldn't stop. For whatever reason, his standing outside his former flat with this blonde girl who barely knew him seemed utterly hilarious.

"George?" Verity shouldered her bag and closed the distance between herself and the red head, slightly unsure of herself.

George didn't respond and instead just continued to laugh so hard that tears streamed down his face. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd laughed quite like this. He almost felt slightly frantic. It suddenly dawned on him that he _was_ slightly frantic as he struggled to draw breaths through his laughter.

"George? George, just breathe, ok?"

Verity's voice somehow made its way through to him and he took a deep breath, only to have it cut short as he continued to howl, tears clouding his vision. He gasped and clutched his sides, bent double. Verity timidly placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to get George to focus on breathing.

It was a few moments before George realized he was no longer laughing. Instead he was wracked with sobs. He couldn't even get a grip long enough to be mortified and instead sunk to his knees as Verity kept her hand securely on his shoulder in silent comfort.

In hindsight, he really should have seen this coming. He'd been jumping out of his skin for nearly a year now just trying to hold himself together on the outside. Since Angelina's accident, Fred had become jumpy and borderline paranoid. George had felt it was his responsibility to stay collected for both of their sakes. He should have known he couldn't do it forever.

Verity simply allowed George to sob, slightly stunned and her face full of confusion. At last George seemed to be breathing normally and his arms unclenched from around himself, Verity slowly sat down next to him.

George however, refused to look up at her and instead kept his eyes glued firmly to the ground, finally able to allow his mortification sink in.

"You should probably know," he said at last, still not looking up, "That this is the most embarrassed I've been in my entire life."

Verity just sat there, her expression unreadable as she looked at George.

"Want to get a drink?"

The abruptness of the question was enough for George to look up, stunned at how natural Verity had managed to make it sound.

"Huh?" was all he managed to get out.

Verity just smiled softly and shrugged. "Something tells me you could use one… and some company."

George just looked at her, surprised to find his lips curling into a genuine smile as Verity just smirked at him.

"Yeah I… I guess maybe I do."

11111111111111111111111111111111

"How'd it go?"

Ron collapsed into the vacant chair next to Harry and gave him a look that clearly stated exactly how his day had been. He was exhausted. For eight hours now Ron had been taking his exams. Even his OWLS seemed like a cake walk in comparison, and rather than go home to relax, he now had to sit through a meeting with the healer in charge of research regarding the sterilization curse. He hoped Harry was ready to pay attention, because he was certain his own brain would soon be oozing out of his ears.

"How long have you been waiting?"

"Not long," Harry replied, "They know I'm here."

Ron nodded and then furrowed his brow as he took a better look at Harry.

"The swelling on that ought to be down by now mate," he informed Harry with a frown.

Harry smiled sheepishly and looked at Ron through his good eye, his left one still swollen shut from the day before.

"I sort of forgot to put the salve on it."

Ron rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand.

"Well if you can't see out of your left eye ever again don't expect me to fix it for you," he informed Harry before muttering a spell and aiming his wand carefully at the swollen eye.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you… I mean… is this going to be hard for you? Because if you'd rather just go home…"

"It's all right Harry. I want to do this. I just… yeah, it might be hard. I wish I wasn't coming from an eight our exam, and I wish it wasn't my girlfriend who was hit with this damned thing, but there's not much I can do about it. I'm dieing for a cup of tea though."

Harry laughed. "Well _that_ I can help you with. The café is down this hall."

By the time Harry returned with two steaming mugs, the healer had arrived and was shaking Ron's hand.

"Mr. Potter! Healer Konrad; it's a pleasure to meet you!"

"Er, thanks," Harry replied awkwardly, shifting a mug to Ron to take the healer's hand.

"Right then, if you two will follow me, I'll take you on a tour of our lab. It's fantastic that someone is taking an interest—it doesn't happen too often. People tend to think we just wave our wands randomly and cure everything—like it's that simple. Anyway, feel free to stop me at any point; I tend to get a little passionate."

"I can see that," Ron said, raising his eyebrows at Harry as they followed the healer down the corridor. Harry just smirked into his mug.

"I had no idea you were in the healer program Mr. Weasley. Have you considered looking into counter-curse development at all?"

"Uh, no, actually. I'm not sure it would really suit me. I sort of… detest magical theory."

Healer Konrad laughed and nodded in understanding. "Definitely not the place for you then. Anyway, here we are."

The healer led Harry and Ron through a doorway and Harry instantly realized why his best mate had no desire to go into counter-curse development. H

The "lab" was essentially several rows of witches and wizards bent over desks, parchment, and books. It looked like a Hermione dream world and a Ron nightmare. The healer continued to lead the way to a small conference room towards the back of the space and gestured for them to take seats.

"Basically, what we deal with is a lot of research and theory. Breaking down the components of a curse is a meticulous process even when we know what it is—the sterilization curse is a particular challenge because we don't even know how it is cast. An incantation, wand movement, anything helps. The curse isn't even fully developed, so it's extremely tricky to pull it apart. What we _do_ know is…"

"Wait, wait, wait," Harry shook his head and looked at Ron who, to Harry's shock, looked as though he completely understood everything the healer had just said, "What did you just say?"

"There are three main types of curses," Ron responded before the healer had a chance, earning him yet another incredulous look from Harry, "psychosomatic, physiological, and external force. External force is the easiest to heal; it's basically an injury caused by… well by some sort of external force, like _sectumsempra_. The injury is outside the body and easily healed… or at least relatively easily, make sense?"

Harry nodded mutely, too shocked to actually speak as Ron continued to explain curses.

"Psychosomatic are like my insomnia curse, or the _imperious_—it's all in the mind and most of the time are up to the victim to fix. The trickiest from a healing perspective are physiological. It's when the curse actually affects you biologically. I have a nasty feeling that's the category the sterilization curse falls under."

Healer Konrad nodded and Ron let out a long sigh. Harry however, just continued to stare at his best friend.

Ron sighed and glared slightly in response, perturbed by Harry's shock.

"What do you think I spend all day doing Harry?" he asked defensively.

Harry shook himself and muttered an apology.

"Right," Konrad began again, "As Mr. Weasley just explained, the sterilization curse is what we call a Class III, Physiological Curse. The Class III just means that it's extremely dark."

"There's only three classes," Ron added for Harry's benefit. Harry merely nodded and did his best to keep up as the healer continued.

"The curse biologically affects the reproductive organs themselves. If fully developed, we imagine that the organs would be essentially disintegrated by the curse. We have one case where a young witch is unexplainably missing half of her left fallopian tube, but that's the most extreme case we've come across so far. For the most part, the organs are just damaged and not completely missing. Our trouble mostly comes from not knowing how the damage is caused—what components of magic have made the organs break down. Without knowing that, we can't reverse the effects and rebuild the organ."

Harry simply blinked as Ron sat with his brow furrowed in thought.

"There's a curse," Ron said at last, "I can't for the life of me remember what it's called, but it dissolves the person's kidneys. Is it the same thing?"

"It's similar yes, but not the same. That's actually the curse we're using as a starting point for our studies. It's aimed specifically towards the kidneys and the breakdown caused by the kidney curse is different from the type we've seen in the sterilization."

Ron and Harry glanced at each other and Harry nodded to Ron, feeling that it was him who ought to initiate the funding. For a few moments, Harry felt as though he didn't even know his best friend anymore. Ron hated schooling. He hated studying. Yet his knowledge on healing had been impressive. It wasn't that Harry had doubted his friend's ability—quite the opposite, as he had experienced first hand just how capable Ron was at it. It was simply that Harry had never seen Ron display such a… knowledge.

"Healer Konrad," Ron's voice brought Harry from his thoughts, "Harry and I would like to offer funding for your research here. The curse has er… hit home, I guess you could say, and we'd like to do what we can to um… you know, help."

11111111111111111111111111111111

"I think your brother is mad at me."

Ginny looked up from the chopping board and raised an eyebrow at Harry.

"Ok…?"

Harry sighed and sat down at the table and put his head in hands.

"It's complicated."

Ginny smirked as she went back to her chopping. "Ron is rarely simple."

Harry snorted and leaned back in his chair. The meeting with the healer had gone well. He'd taken their offer of funding with enthusiasm and they'd worked out much of the details on the spot. Ron however, had been slightly distant with Harry the entire time and even less inclined to speak when they arrived back at the flat. Harry knew his friend well enough to know he was annoyed, but he wasn't ever quite sure how to broach the subject.

"Are you going to just sit there or are you going to tell me more about it?" Ginny asked, pulling her wand from behind her ear and charming the vegetables to chop themselves.

"I was thinking I was just going to sit here," Harry teased, "Care to join me?"

Ginny rolled her eyes but nevertheless perched herself in Harry's lap.

"Don't think this means I think you're smooth Potter."

"Nah, you just think I'm irresistible."

Ginny laughed and shoved Harry, who merely wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. They stayed that way for several moments, Ginny fully aware that Harry was merely biding time to sift through his thoughts.

"Ginny, I've never thought your brother was stupid."

Ginny pulled away to look at Harry, a confused expression on her face.

"Well he isn't," she said, a little baffled.

"I know. But _he_ doesn't. And so… I don't know. Just because I don't think he's stupid doesn't mean it's not surprising to hear him so… I don't know… academic? Is that the right word?"

Ginny laughed and shook her head. "How about you explain from the beginning?"

Harry heaved another sigh and shifted to a more comfortable position before explaining further.

"Basically, we had that meeting with the research healer, you remember?" Ginny nodded and Harry continued. "He started explaining what they know so far about the curse and… well to put it bluntly Ginny, I was completely lost. I had no idea what the man was talking about, but Ron… he… he explained it to me! And I mean, I know Ron is studying to be a healer and all but I guess I just didn't realize how much he actually knows. I uh… I guess I looked pretty shocked, but I mean, this is the same Ron who had Hermione write a large majority of his essays! I know how capable he is… I've just never seen him… I don't know really. Anyway, we both know how fragile his self-esteem is; I think it really annoyed him that I was so surprised."

Ginny took this in for a moment before tilting Harry's chin towards her.

"Harry, the thing is, I don't think it _is_ the same Ron who relied on Hermione's essays."

"I was afraid you'd say that."

Ginny smiled and kissed Harry lightly. "You had to grow up a lot earlier than Ron did; it was a lot more seamless for you… not easy," she added, seeing Harry's eyes flicker, "but less abrupt. I think Ron is a little bit more shocked with himself than even he realizes sometimes."

"Ginny I just… it was completely normal for him to be so… adult, if that's the right word, when we were…" he paused and waved his hands vaguely in the direction of the nearest window. It was how the trio in general referred to their time out horcrux hunting— a frustrated wave of the arms, as though not sure how else to put it. "…when we were out there."

"But now that you're not out there," Ginny said, mimicking Harry's hand gesture with slightly more theatricality, "you sort of just expected him to go back to how he was before the war. I know Harry. I know you didn't notice, but there were moments when you guys returned, even some now, where I just gape at the three of you. You had been dealing with the weight of the world being on your shoulders for years… for Ron, it got a lot more drastic in a much shorter space of time. He's still Ron. But… he grew up… or something anyway."

"How do you know all this?" Harry asked, half laughing, "You're younger for goodness sakes!"

Ginny just grinned and hopped off of Harry's lap.

"Youngest in a family with 7 kids, remember? I had to be tough and be mature if I wanted to keep up. Plus I'm a girl; we mature way faster than you anyway."

"It's true," Hermione's voice entered.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked as she sat down next to him at the table, not meaning the question to sound as harsh as it did.

Hermione just smiled at him and shook her head.

"I live here Harry. And I like to think I know my boyfriend well enough to know when he needs some space."

Harry groaned and pressed his forehead into the table.

"That's my fault," he muttered.

Hermione glanced at Ginny and both girls had to hide their smirks.

"Oh just go talk to him would you? I know you both well enough by now to know when you need… well when you need each other," Hermione said, laughing.

Harry just looked at her in confusion as she and Ginny howled with laughter.

"I don't see what's so funny," he told them matter-of-factly.

"Sorry Harry," Hermione said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "I only meant that you two just need to be around each other sometimes. There are some things that only you two understand about each other. I used to be so jealous actually… but hey, I'm the one that gets to snog him."

Harry just stared at Hermione the two girls who both seemed to think there was nothing at all odd about them insinuating that he and Ron needed some "alone time."

"Uh… ok? I'm going to my flat. I'll be over for dinner in…?"

"Twenty minutes," Ginny replied, dumping the vegetables into a pan over the stove.

Harry stood, casting both girls one last confused glance before apparating back to his own flat two flights up. It didn't take him long to find Ron, who was out on the balcony, leaning heavily on the banister.

"Uh, hey."

Ron looked over at him, smirked slightly, and then turned his attention back to the grand expanse of parking lot.

"Ron, listen, I'm sorry about…"

"You know Harry," Ron interrupted, "I think one day I'd like to live in the country. Not too far out mind you, but at least somewhere with some trees, a big back yard, that sort of thing."

Harry just stared mutely for a moment and slowly took up post next to Ron on the banister. He wasn't exactly sure what the girls thought he and Ron did when they were angry with each other (at least, angry is what he and Ron considered it. The truth was usually that they were hurt, but angry just sounded much better), but they rarely, talked about it. That was the beauty of it as far as Harry was concerned. They simply didn't need to. They knew each other well enough by now to know what the other wanted to say.

They stood in silence for quite some time before Ron spoke up again.

"It wasn't really you I was upset with you know." Harry blinked and turned to look at Ron, who was concentrating hard on some point far away, not looking at Harry. "I mean, I kind of was, but under different circumstances… I probably wouldn't have cared." Harry just waited silently as Ron seemed to gather himself for what he had to say next. "They… they aren't going to get this curse figured out. They…" Ron growled in frustration and ran his hands roughly through his hair, "… they don't have enough information; they don't have anything to start with."

Harry didn't reply. He didn't understand much of what had gone on in that Healer's office, but he knew that Ron had, and his expression had not been a hopeful one.

At last, Ron straightened from the railing and turned to face Harry. It was an expression that Harry instantly recognized and he matched Ron's posture at once, ready for whatever was coming next.

"I might need you to help me pull some strings," Ron said slowly.

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